Glass 



Book 

\ 1816 



I 




I 'acvu? the Title 




London. Published asiAc Act dbrccs May 1.1S16 h'lJSJrcky.and. Raldwiii.iKufaci; k K 



THE 



LIFE, CHARACTER, 



THE REV. RICHARD CECIL, M. A 



tATE RECTOR OF BISEEY, AND VICAR OF CHOBHAM, SURREY: 
AND 

MINISTER OF ST. JOHN's-CH APEL, BEDFORD-ROW, 
LONDON: 



COLLECTED AND REVISED 



JOSIAH PRATT, B. D. F.A.S. 



FIFTH EDITION. 



LONDON: 



PRINTED FOR L. B. SEELEY, FLEET-STREET J AND BALDWIN, CRADOCK, 
AND JOY, PATERNOSTER-ROW. 



1S16. 



J. Seeley, Printer, Buckingham. 



Most of the following anecdotes were collected in Mr. Cecil's 
life-time. Since his decease, they have been interwoven into this 
Memoir, with a short account of his latter days, and a slight view 
of his domestic character and habits. His personal and public 
character will be added by my very kind friend, the Rev. Josiah 
Pratt. 

Should any friend feel repugnance at seeing his name inserted 
in this Memoir, I beg leave to observe, that the delicacy due to him 
in requesting permission, was neither overlooked nor disregarded; 
but it was imperiously superseded by Mr. Cecil's positive injunction, 
that I should bear this public testimony to the kindness which he 
had received. 

J.C. 



CONTENTS. 



Page 



Memoir of the Rev. Richard Cecil l 

Letters from Mr. Cecil to Mrs. Cecil 95 

Letters from Mr. Cecil to his Son 112 

View of the Character of Mr. Cecil 121 

REMAINS. 

On the Christian Life and Conflict 17 i 

On Subjects connected with the Christian Ministry : — 

On a Minister's qualifying himself for his Office .... 199 
On the Assistance which a Minuter has Reason to 
expect in the Discharge of his Public Duty .... 204 

On Preaching Christ 208 

On a Minister's Familiar Intercourse with his Hearers 210 
On a Minister's encouraging Animadversion on himself 220 
On Limits, with regard to frequenting Public Exhi- 
bitions 227 

On the Means of promoting a Spirit of Devotion in 

Congregations .... 230 

On the Marriage of Christian Ministers 233 

On Visiting Death-Beds 239 

Miscellaneous Remarks , 245 

On Infidelity and Popery 266 

On a Christian's Duty in these Eventful Times ...... . . 275 

On fortifying Youth against Infidel Principles 279 

On the Management of Children 282 



iv CONTENTS. 

Page 

On Family Worship , 286 

On the Influence of the Parental Character . .. 29 1 

Remarks on Authors 297 

On the Scriptures: — 

Miscellaneous Remarks , 309 

On the Old and New Dispensations 319 

On Typical and Allegorical Explanations of Scripture 322 
On the Diversity of Character in Christians, and on cor- 
recting the Defects in our Character 325 

On the Fallen Nature of Man 335 

On the Need of Grace 338 

On the Occasions of Enmity against Christianity 343 

On Religious Retirement • « 547 

On a Spiritual Mind 353 

On Declension in Religion 357 

On a Christian's associating with Irreligious Persons for 

their Good 36 1 

On the Christian Sabbath 363 

On Judging Justly 365 

On the Character of St. Paul 370 

Miscellanies 374 

APPENDIX: 

CONTAINING 

Remarks by Mr. Cecil, communicated to the Editor by 

some Friends - 409 

Some Negative Rules, given to a Young Minister .... . . 457 

Fragment — a Dying Ministers Faretvell 463 



MEMOIR, 



An anxious desire to beguile Mr. Cecil's hours of 
depression while at Bath and Clifton in the winter 
of 1808, gave rise to the following facts being col- 
lected together. These facts he read, authenti- 
cated, and approved as a foundation of what is 
now presented to the public. Some of them had 
been noted down as they occasionally dropped 
from his lips, in the course of familiar and domestic 
conversation. I have endeavoured to place them 
in the order in which they occurred. 

Mr. Cecil was born in Chiswell Street, London, 
on Nov. 8, 1748. His Father and Grandfather 
were Scarlet Dyers to the East India Company. 
His Mother was the only child of Mr. Grovesnor, 
a merchant in London, and brother to the Rev, 
Dr. Grovesnor, the well known author of the 
Mourner. To some excellent traits of her charac- 
ter mentioned in Mr. C's works, may be added, 
that of her benevolence to the poor. In order to 
enlarge her resources, she employed herself in 
working fine-work, according to the fashion of the 
day, which she sold for their benefit. Mr. C. was 
t B 



- MEMOIR OF THE 

born after his Mother was fifty years old, and af- 
ter an interval of ten years had elapsed since the 
birth of her preceding child. It is worthy of re- 
mark, that during her travail with this child of her 
old age, her heart was overwhelmed with sorrow. 
Her years, and other circumstances not necessary 
to be here mentioned, raised in her mind the most 
terrific apprehensions. Yet this child was the 
comfort and the honour of her latter days ! 

Mr. Cecil's father inherited a large tract of 
ground, on which were his dwelling-house, dye- 
house, and garden. During the early part of Mr. 
C's life, this tract of ground was the spot of his 
pastime, in the interval of school hours. His life 
was here endangered by several adventures. The 
following was remarkable : — His father had in this 
ground several large backs of water, one of which 
was sunk into the earth, and in winter was fre- 
quently covered with ice. A hole was made in 
the ice, for the purpose of supplying the horses with 
water. At this hole Mr. C. was playing with a 
stick, till he suddenly plunged under the ice. The 
men had received particular orders over-night, to 
go to work in a part of the dye-house, from which 
this piece of water was not visible ; but it is re- 
markable, that, for reasons which could not be 
assigned, they went to work at an opposite part, 
where it was directly before their eyes. One of 
the men thought he saw a scarlet cloak appear at 
the hole broke in the ice, and resolved to go and 



REV. RICHARD CECIL. 



3 



see what it was : in attempting to take it out, he 
discovered it to be the scarlet coat of his young 
master. He was taken out apparently dead ; but 
after long effort, was recovered. 

About the same time Mr. C. was caught by his 
coat in a mill-wheel, and must have been crushed 
in a few moments, had he not, with wonderful 
presence of mind, thrust his foot against the horse's 
face, by which the mill was stopped, and he disen- 
tangled. Several other extraordinary deliverances 
occurred about this time ; but all, as I have often 
heard him lament, during his thoughtless days 
were passed over without improvement. Beyond 
the period of his juvenile years, I might mention 
many instances of the preservation of his invaluable 
life — " Immortal till his work w as done" — but they 
would lengthen this Memoir beyond the intended 
bound. Within the recollection of many friends 
was that of his horse falling, and throwing him be- 
fore a loaded cart; the wheel of which went over 
his hat, pushing his head from beneath it, and only 
bruising his shoulder.* The beloved of the Lord 

* This deliverance was so remarkable, that some of the circumstances 
deserve to be recorded. It took place on Wednesday, Jan. 12, 1803. He 
had rode over the stones the day before toward Bond Street; but finding 
them slippery in consequence of a frost, he determined (as he had occa- 
sion to go again on this day) to be particularly cautious. In order there- 
fore to avoid riding over the stones, he went round by the New Road : 
but, in turning into Oxford Street, his horse's legs flew from under him, in 
consequence of his stepping on some ice, and Mr. C. was thrown off upon 
his face, at the moment that a heavily loaded cart was passing. His 
shoulder was in the track of the cart wheel, and he distinctly felt it 
go over him, and bear against his head. The crown of bis hat was con- 

B 2 



4 



MEMOIR OF THE 



shall dwell in safety by him; and the Lord shall co- 
ver him all the day long. Deut. xxxiii. 12. 

After these instances of preservation, both in 
Mr. Cecil's earlier and latter years, I return to the 
days of his youth. His Father, being a Member 
of the established Church, took his son with him 
on a Sunday to his Parish Church. His Mother 
was n Dissenter, and a woman of real piety. Her 
family, for generations back, were pious charac- 
ters. One of them, a Mr. Cope, used to send 
money and other support to the Nonconformists 
in prison ; which his daughter, the grandmother of 
Mr. Cecil, took to them. It was a special mercy 
to Mr. C. that his mother was a partaker of the 
same grace with her ancestors. She laboured 
early to impress his mind, both by precept and by 
example : she bought him Jane way's " Token for 

siderably pressed in by the wheel against his temples. Had he been 
thrown a few inches farther, it must have gone directly over his head. He 
was immediately carried into a shop, where he received kind attention ; 
and was thence brought home in a hackney coach. On examination it was 
found, though his arm was much bruised and discoloured, that no serious 
injury had been received. He attributed this, under the mercy of God, 
to his shoulder not having borne the whole weight of the wheel, which be- 
ing broad, was, at the moment it was going over, eased, as he supposed, 
from his shoulder, by the inner part of it being raised by a stone rather 
more elevated in the pavement than the rest. In this situation of danger 
he was mercifuHy preserved from broken bones, or instant death. He 
huag up his hat in his study (with the indentation and dirt) as a memento. 
He said that he had learnt three lessons from this providence : — 
First, that, while we are called on to use all proper means and precau- 
tions of safety, God will sometimes shew us our absolute and immediate 
dependance on Him, by makiug the very means which we employ the oc- 
casion of bringing us to the very borders of the grave. He thought it his 
duty to avoid the stones as much as possible, and yet here danger met him. 
A second lesson gathered from this event, was, the comparative trifling- 



REV. RICHARD CECIL. 



5 



Children," which greatly affected him, and made 
him retire into a corner to pray ; but his serious 
beginnings wore off ; and he at length made such 
progress in sin, that he gloried in his shame. 

Mr. C's father, intending him for business, placed 
him in a considerable House in the City : from this 
he was removed to another, where he staid longer; 
but returned home through illness. He felt wholly 
averse to trade, but was devoted to literature and 
the arts. At a very early age he wrote pieces, 
which he sent on hazard to the editors of the pe- 
riodical publications, who thought them worthy of 
insertion. His father, a man of extensive reading, 
and who had himself received a classical educa- 
tion, accidentally met with a poetical piece which 
he greatly admired : his son affirmed himself the 
author of it ; but his father thought it incredible, 

nes.s of the cases, which occupy and harass the mind. He had been much 
exercised and depressed by some circumstances of domestic trial. They 
had almost wholly occupied his thoughts, and appeared of deep interest 
and importance. But he compared them now with that far heavier trial 
which his family was so near encountering, of seeing him brought home a 
corpse, and he then felt them to be comparatively trifles, and to be treated 
as trifles. 

A third lesson, he said, was very obvious, but it was now brought home 
with peculiar force to him, and that was — to be always ready. " I went 
out yesterday, and I came in again with safety. I am going out to-day, 
and I shall return when my business is finished" — " No !" — the Lord may 
say concerning me, " you shall return no more. Your time is come. My 
messenger waits for you with a summons!" 

He attended divine service on the following Sunday, though he did not 
think it prudent to preach. Thanks were publicly returned by him in the 
congregation, and the psalms sung in the course of the service bore such 
an allusion to his deliverance, and were so admirably selected for this pur- 
pose, that the congregation was evidently much affected by the service. 



6 



MEMOIR OF THE 



till his son, taking another subject given him by 
his father, and retiring a short time, produced a 
poem which satisfied his father that he was the 
author of the one in question. 

Mr. Cecil had a marvellous power and flexibi- 
lity of mind, which would have rendered him dis- 
tinguished, in whatever he had pursued. He had 
an affection for all the Arts, but his predominant 
passion was for painting. This he pursued insati- 
ably. He attended all picture sales, and practised 
at home ; and was so intent on his point, that he 
set out unknown to his parents on a ramble to 
France, from a desire to see the paintings of the 
greatest Masters, and would have proceeded to 
Rome, had not the means of travelling failed. He 
returned home, and continued to live with his fa- 
ther ; who perceiving his ardour for painting did 
not abate, at length proposed his going to Rome, 
(where he had an acquaintance) as an Artist. To 
this proposal Mr. C. agreed ; but a circumstance 
took place which prevented it, and he remained 
still under the roof of his father for some time — 
sunk in the depths of sin, and hardening his con- 
science by reading books of infidelity, till he be- 
came a professed Infidel himself. He endeavoured 
to instil the same principles into others : with some 
he awfully succeeded, whom he since endeavoured 
to reclaim, but in vain. 

While Mr. C. was proceeding in such a course 
of evil, it pleased God by his Spirit to rouse his 



REV. RICHARD CECIL. 



7 



mind to reflections, which gave a turn to his fu- 
ture life. 

Lying one night in bed, he was contemplating 
the case of his mother. " I see," said he, within 
himself, " two unquestionable facts. First, my 
mother is greatly afflicted, in circumstances, body, 
and mind ; and yet I see that she cheerfully bears 
up under ail, by the support she derives from con- 
stantly retiring to her closet and her Bible. Se- 
condly, that she has a secret spring of comfort of 
which I know nothing; while I, who give an un- 
bounded loose to my appetites, and seek pleasure 
by every means, seldom or never find it. If how- 
ever there is any such secret in religion, why may 
not I attain it as well as my mother ? — I will im- 
mediately seek it of God." He instantly rose in 
his bed and began to pray. But he was soon 
damped in his attempt, by recollecting that much 
of his mothers comfort seemed to arise from her 
faith in Christ. " Now," thought he, 44 this Christ 
have I ridiculed : He stands much in my way, and 
can form no part of my prayers." In utter confusion 
of mind, therefore, he lay down again. Next day, 
however, he continued to pray to 44 the Supreme 
Being:" he began to consult books and to attend 
preachers : his difficulties were gradually removed, 
and his objections answered ; and his course of life 
began to amend. He now listened to the pious 
admonitions of his mother, which he had before 
affected to receive with pride and scorn : yet they 



8 



MEMOIR OF THE 



had fixed themselves in his heart, like a barbed 
arrow ; and, though the effects were at the time 
concealed from her observation, yet tears would 
fall from his eyes as he passed along the streets 
from the impression she had left on his mind. Now, 
he would discourse with her, and hear her without 
outrage ; which led her to hope, that a gracious 
principle was forming in his heart, and more espe- 
cially as he then attended the preaching of the 
Word. Thus he made some progress ; but felt 
no small difficulty in separating from his favourite 
connections. Light, however, broke into his mind, 
till he gradually discovered that Jesus Christ, so 
far from ' ' standing in his way # ," was the only way, 
the truth, and the life, to all that come unto God 
by Him. 

While Mr. C. pursued this new course, his father 
began to take alarm ; and said to him one evening 
" I know not what to do with you. I have made 
two experiments for your subsistence : I have of- 
fered to bring you into my own business, which at 
my death will be as good as an estate to you : you 
have rejected all my proposals. You now seem 
to be taking a religious turn : but I tell you plainly, 
that, if you connect yourself with Dissenters or 
Sectaries, I will do nothing for you, living or dy- 
ing; but if you chuse to go regularly into the 
Church, I will not only bear the expense of a Uni- 
versity, for which you have had some education, 

* Mr. Cecil's own expression, 



REV. RICHARD CECIL. 



9 



but I will buy you a Living on your entering into 
Orders." Mr. C. promised to consider this pro- 
posal ; and, finding his father continued in the same 
mind, he went (on the recommendation of Dr. 
Bacon, an old family acquaintance) to Queen's 
College, Oxford, May 19, 1773. 

I have heard him mention, with much feeling, 
many deep and secret conflicts of mind with which 
he was exercised while at College: added to which, 
he had to meet many insults which profligate men 
offer to piety. Under these impressions, he was 
one day walking in the Physic Gardens, where he 
observed a very fine Pomegranate Tree, cut almost 
through the stem, near the root. On asking the 
gardener the reason of this, " Sir," said he, " this 
tree used to shoot so strong, that it bore nothing 
but leaves. I was therefore obliged to cut it in 
this manner; and when it was almost cut through, 
then it began to bear plenty of fruit." The gar- 
dener's explanation of this act conveyed a striking 
illustration to Mr. C's mind, and he went back to 
his rooms comforted and instructed by this image. 

On Sept. 22d, 1776, Mr. Cecil was ordained 
Deacon on the Title of The Rev. Mr. Pugh, of 
Rauceby, in Lincolnshire. In the Lent Term fol- 
lowing, he took the degree of B. A. with great 
credit; and, soon after, took his name off the books. 
On Feb. 23d, 1777, he was admitted to Priest's 
Orders. With Mr. Pugh he staid but a short time ; 
for at Mr. Pug Irs request, he went to serve three 



10 



MEMOIR OF THE 



Churches in Leicestershire. These Churches were 
Thornton, Bagworth, and Markfield. The object 
of his going thither was that of serving the Churches 
till Mr. Abbott, the son of the deceased Vicar, 
should be able to take the charge of them. The 
end of his being sent thither, appears still more 
important. 

On his going forth in this beginning of his Mis- 
sion, he found little of real religion in these 
Churches ; but by means of his ministry, a general 
attention to the truth was excited among the peo- 
ple, and many of them believed and clave unto the 
Lord. Mr. Abbott, in particular, and a sister of 
his, owed to Mr. Cecil, under the divine blessing, 
their knowledge and belief of the truth: and, at 
length a flourishing congregation was formed in 
each of the Churches. 

Mr. C. laboured to awaken the mind of Mr. 
Abbott, not merely to the necessity of embracing 
the truth, but that he might continue in the things 
which he had learned, and preach among the peo- 
ple the glorious Gospel of the JBlessed God, which 
was committed to his trust. Mr. Cecil, anxious 
that these 

" Plants of his hand, and children of his prayer"— 

should not be left like sheep without a shepherd, 
earnestly urged on Mr. Abbott his responsibility 
as a Minister — the obligation of making full proof 
of his ministry — and the infinite consequences at- 



REV. RICHARD CECIL. 



11 



taching to his holy function. It pleased God to 
bless his endeavours : and Mr. Abbott, not only 
received the truth in the knowledge of it, but in the 
love of it, and became a faithful and upright Mi- 
nister. He died in early life. 

On Mr. Cecil's return to Rauceby, he found a 
letter informing him, that, by the interest of friends, 
two small Livings had been obtained for him, at 
Lewes, in Sussex. This was a great disappoint- 
ment to Mr. Pugh, who, at that time, wished to go 
to Bath ; but he generously dismissed his Curate, 
and accordingly Mr. C. proceeded to take pos- 
session of his Livings. 

At Lewes, residing in a damp situation, near one 
of his Churches, he was long afflicted with a rheu- 
matic disorder in his head ; and, at length, was 
disabled for duty for several months, and was un- 
der the necessity of procuring a Curate. I have 
heard him mention, with much feeling, a very sin- 
gular providence, which occurred to him on his 
going from London to Lewes to serve these 
Churches. Instead of his leaving town early in 
the morning, the farrier, who shod his horse, de- 
tained him till noon ; in consequence of which, he 
did not arrive on East Grinstead Common, till 
after it was dark. On this Common he met a man 
on horseback, who appeared to be intoxicated, 
and ready to fall from his horse at every step. Mr. 
C. called to him, and warned him of his danger ; 
which the man disregarding, with his usual bene- 



12 



MEMOIR OF THE 



volence he rode up to him, in order to prevent his 
falling, when the man immediately seized the reins 
of Mr. Cs horse; who, perceiving he was in bad 
hands, endeavoured to break away, on which the 
man threatened to knock him down if he repeated 
the attempt. Three other men on horseback im- 
mediately rode up, placing Mr. C. in the midst of 
them. On perceiving his danger, it struck him 
" Here is an occasion of faith!" and that gracious 
direction also occurred to him — Call upon me in 
the time of trouble, and I will deliver thee. He 
secretly lifted up his heart to God, entreating that 
deliverance which he alone could effect. One of 
the men, who seemed to be the Captain of the 
Gang, asked him who he was, and whither he was 
going. Mr. C. here recurred to a principle, to 
which his mind was habituated — that " Nothing 
needs a lie." He therefore told them very frankly 
his name, and whither he was going : the leader 
said, " Sir, I know you, and have heard you preach 
at Lewes : let the gentleman's horse go : we wish 
you good night." 

Mr. C. had about him sixteen pounds, Queen 
Annes Bounty, belonging to his Churches, which 
he had been to town to receive, and which, at that 
time, was to him a large sum. 

It may not be improper to add here, that both 
the Livings brought in only about 80/. per annum ; 
and when Mr. Cecil's health rendered it necessary 
for him to engage a Curate, from that time he de- 



REV. RICHARD CECIL. 



13 



rived no emolument from them, as the income 
was only adequate to the expence of a Curate. 
He held these Livings for no other but the express 
purpose of continuing the preaching of the truth 
in that place, and had many difficulties to contend 
with in carrying his point: but he persevered in this 
way for many years, till he could resign them, 
satisfactorily, to the late Rev. Mr. Dale. 

Although Mr. C. was a single man while Rector 
of two Livings at Lewes, yet, possessing no per- 
sonal property, he was always straitened in his 
pecuniary affairs, particularly so during the first 
years of his Ministry.* 

In June 1777, while Mr. C. lived at Lewes, he 
lost his pious mother, whose death was made of 
singular benefit to him. He went on the evening 
of her death, under the solemn impressions which 
it had made on his mind, to the Lock Chapel, for 
which service he was previously engaged; and 
preached a most effective sermon — by some, pro- 
bably, still held in remembrance. His father did 
not long survive her: he died in Feb. 1779. Both 

* It may be necessary for me to mention, that though his Father's busi- 
ness was lucrative, yet as he had no turn for business, consequently he did 
not pay that attention which so large a concern required, and which, un- 
der proper inspection and good regulation, would have been, as he said to 
his son, " as good as an Estate to him." At his Father's death, therefore, 
nothing remained, but his business, house, and premises; into the posses- 
sion of which his elder brother entered : and all, of any consideration, that 
Mr. C. received from his Parents, was a few articles of plate, given him by 
his Mother on her death-bed, with her watch, and some old family china, 
which (though useless) he valued as relics of sacred antiquity ; particularly 
one article— a coffee-pot, out of which John Bunyan drank coffee in the 
house of Mr, Cope mentioned before. 



14 



MEMOIR OF THE 



his father and mother lie buried in a family vault 
in Bunhill Fields, with five of his own children — 
Tabitha, John Christian, Theophilus, Henry, and 
Israel. 

Mr. C. continued to be so much affected with 
the rheumatic complaint in his head, that he re- 
moved from Lewes to London, and lived at Isling- 
ton for the recovery of his health. During this 
time he preached at different Churches and Cha- 
pels in London. 

For some years he preached a lecture at Loth- 
bury, at 6 o'clock on the Sunday Morning. He 
found the walk, at that early hour in winter, very 
dangerous, as most of the lamps were gone out, 
and few persons stirring except those who wander 
for prey. He has often made me thrill with horror, 
at hearing him state the meeting on his way thither 
of wretches with their dark lanterns, with designs 
still darker: but God graciously preserved him 
amidst these dangers. He found, however, that 
this undertaking was not only dangerous, but that 
the additional fatigue of this early service became 
too great a demand on his strength : and on both 
accounts, he engaged a hackney coach, to take 
him to and from the Church during the latter years 
of his going thither. At this time, he had the 
whole duty of St. John's, and also an Evening 
Lecture at a Chapel, in Orange Street, Leicester 
Fields, at that period a regular Chapel in the 
Establishment. 



REV. RICHARD CECIL. 



15 



In course of time, notwithstanding this precau- 
tion, his health declined, and, after many long and 
earnest intreaties of his friends, he reluctantly re- 
linquished the lecture at Lothbury; whither he 
used to go with peculiar pleasure, and where many, 
who were taking an early walk on a summer morn- 
ing, wandering in thoughtlessly, heard and em- 
braced the truth, and are some out of the number 
of those, who became his joy and crown. By this 
resignation also, he lost nothing but labour and 
care, except the satisfaction which it afforded him 
of ministering to this people : for the emolument 
arising from the endowment, but barely covered 
his expences. 

The Chapel at Orange Street, where he preached 
on Sunday Evenings, and on Wednesday Evenings 
for many years, being about to be repaired, it was 
relinquished ; and the Chapel in Long Acre was 
engaged, in conjunction with his friend the Rev. 
Henry Foster, who had the morning duty : here 
the same congregation attended. 

Mr. C. was solicited to take the Sunday Even- 
ing Lecture, preached at Christ Church, Spital 
Fields. He entered on this charge in Sep. 1787, 
a date which I am not likely to forget. The first 
Sunday evening that he went thither, he left in my 
lap a dying infant (as was supposed) given over by 
his Physicians with scarcely a remaining trace of 
life, and which he did not expect to find alive on 
his return. But this did not stop Mr. C. in his 



16 MEMOIR OF THE 

work — The ivalls were to be built in troublous times: 
and he went forth accordingly, though with a trou- 
bled heart. It pleased God, however, to restore 
our child, like another Lazarus, at that time : but 
He took him into His own gracious arms, in the 
21st year of his age. 

Many have very naturally conjectured, that, from 
these diversified engagements, Mr. Cecil's pecu- 
niary advantages must have been very considera- 
ble : but it was not for lucre's sake that he thus 
spent himself. In whatever he was prodigal, it 
was for God, and not for gain. I have often heard 
him say, that the Spital Fields Lectureship was 
rather a loss than a gain to him, in this respect, as 
the distance rendered it necessary for him to em- 
ploy a coach for the evening, except when any 
friends took him in their own. 

Mr. C. had the charge of this Lecture, and of 
that at Long Acre Chapel, alternately, each time 
for three successive years, with Mr. Foster — the 
gentleman who endowed the Lecture at Spital 
Fields having specified that the same clergyman 
should hold that Lectureship only three years in 
immediate succession. The appointment is vested 
in the Court of Assistants of the Weaver's Com- 
pany, who first called Mr. Foster to this charge. 
He opened the Lecture in September 1784, and 
was followed by Mr. C. in 1787 : Mr. F. being re- 
appointed in the years 1790, 1796, and 1802 ; and 
Mr. C. in 1793, and 1799. The intention of the 



REV. RICHARD CECIL. 



17 



founder of this Lecture extended only to its being- 
preached from September to April inclusive, but 
both Mr. F. and Mr. C. continued it through the 
whole year. I need not speak of the vast congre- 
gation which assembled in that immense Temple, 
the very sight of which was most animating, and 
where the stillness and attention of the numerous 
poor were most interesting. Mr. C. was, however, 
obliged by ill health to relinquish this arduous 
post — nearly the whole duty of which was dis- 
charged for him by Mr. Pratt, during the last three 
years of his holding the Lectureship, from 1799 to 
1801. 

I return to Mr. Cecil's most important sphere of 
duty at St. John's Chapel, Bedford Row. In the 
year 1780, he was invited to turn his thoughts to 
this Chapel, at that time the largest Church of 
England Chapel in London. Having been much 
neglected, it required a large sum for its repair. 
Mr. C. went, therefore, merely to look at it ; 
for, as he never was possessed of any property, he 
chose to run no hazards. A lady of fortune # , how- 
ever, offered to secure him from any ultimate loss, 
by her bond, should not the undertaking succeed : 
but, as the Chapel prospered, she was never called 
on. Yet wishing to testify her regard to Mr. 
Cecil, she gave him a very considerable sum of 
money toward building the present Vestry and the 

* Mrs. Wilberforce, of John Street, King's Road, aunt to William 
Wilberforce, Esq. 

+ c 



18 



MEMOIR OF THE 



rooms adjoining, to which several other friends 
contributed, and by whom the expence of the 
building, amounting to several hundred pounds, 
was defrayed. The former Vestry, being very 
small, was made into a pew, and appropriated to 
the use of the Minister. At the same time, a gen- 
tleman in the Law offered to lend Mr. C. all the 
money that might be required for the repair of the 
Chapel, without any other security than his note. 

Mr. Cecil's mind was, at length, made up, as to 
engaging in this affair. He thought, that though 
the Chapel, so encumbered, might not yield any 
considerable advantage in his life-time, yet that 
the call appeared providential and the sphere use- 
ful. Accordingly, in March 1780, he entered on 
his Ministry at St. John's. At this time, his whole 
income was but 80/. per annum, which he received 
for the Lecture preached at Orange Street Chapel. 

The pious desire of his friend just mentioned, to 
promote the interest of religion, led him to hazard 
so large a sum on this occasion : he may be justly 
termed, by his liberality, the Nursing-Father, both 
of St. Johns and of its Minister, throughout these 
years of Mr. Cecil's life ; and still remains the uni- 
form friend of his bereaved family. He was one 
of the first who proposed a subscription for their 
support, when the income arising from the few 
remaining years of the lease should fail. 

This kind friend, Mr. C. considered, and highly 
valued, as his coadjutor in every interest that 



REV. RICHARD CECIL. 



19 



respected this place and people: in this object, they 
were of one mind and one heart; and Mr. C. often 
very feelingly expressed, not only his obligations, 
but how great would be his loss, should he ever 
be deprived of this faithful friend — from whose ob- 
servations and ever watchful eye he derived much 
advantage; nor could any thing more strongly 
evince this gentleman's disinterested attachment 
to St. John's, than his unceasing and unwearied 
attentions there, without any other motive or re- 
ward than the pleasure of observing its prosperity 
and success. 

William Cardale, Esq. of Bedford Row, this 
invaluable friend of my dear husband, not only ad- 
vanced a large sum for the first repair, on Mr. 
Cecil's engaging in the Chapel, but was ever ready 
to assist him with such additional sums, as were 
continually and necessarily expended, in order to 
obtain for the congregation that complete accom- 
modation, for which St. John's has been remark- 
able. 

When Mr. Cecil entered on St. John's the usual 
custom prevailed of playing a Voluntary after the 
reading of the Psalms. As he considered this no 
part of the worship, but rather an intrusion into it, 
he appointed that an appropriate Voluntary should 
precede the service — to allow for which, the bell 
was ordered to cease live minutes before the hour 
for Divine Worship ; and, instead of the usual 
Voluntary after the Psalms, he directed that a 
Psalm should be sung after the Second Lesson. 



20 



MEMOIR OF THE 



Any inattention to the established economy of 
the Chapel was grievous to him ; and he strictly 
watched over all abuses, particularly that so fre- 
quently observed in various Churches in London 
— imposition or misbehaviour on the part of the 
pew-openers. He set his face determinedly against 
this ; and enjoined on them, as the condition of 
their holding their situations, that they should, 
without previously receiving a bribe, accommodate 
with a seat, when practicable, every respectable 
stranger : but, rinding, that, through the frailty of 
human nature, his injunctions were in one form or 
another violated, and being fully determined on 
carrying his point, he engaged a person, both to 
superintend the conduct of the pew-openers, and 
to keep a watchful eye over every part of the 
Chapel during the time of Divine Service. This 
he did with a view to prevent inattention to such 
persons as occasionally dropped in, and who there- 
fore had no regular seat. His very soul abhorred 
the thought, that any one should be discouraged 
or prevented from hearing the free offer of salva- 
tion, who did not pay his way into a seat ; and, 
though he was aware that his liberality might be 
abused, yet his grand object was obtained — that 
dying creatures should be encouraged to hear the 
message of the Living God. 

He was a great admirer of order, and particu- 
larly so in the Church. There was, in consequence, 
much more attention paid at St. John's, than in 
most other places, that all the parts of the Service 



REV. RICHARD CECIL. 



21 



should proceed in a regular succession, without 
any intermission, from the time when it com- 
menced till it ended. The Clerk constantly called 
on a Sunday morning and took the time from a 
regulator in Mr. Cecil's study. He appointed that 
the bell should begin precisely at half-past ten 
o'clock — that the Organist should begin instantly 
on the stopping of the bell — that the Reader 
should be in the desk ready to begin the prayers 
on the organ ceasing — and that, throughout the 
whole Service, the same uniform punctuality should 
be preserved. 

At St. John's Mr. C. performed all the duty for 
three years, without receiving any emolument, as 
the hearers were few, the expenses and interest of 
the money laid out upon it great, and the pews 
much underlet : Mr. C. objected to having them 
raised, lest it should disturb the mind of the old 
hearers, and discourage others from attending : an 
annual sum of 251 was, moreover, paid to the 
Rector of St. Andrew's for the privilege of the 
pulpit in the afternoon. These, together with the 
continual and heavy expenses, arising from his 
zeal to render the Chapel commodious to his con- 
gregation, occasioned his income from it to be 
much more confined, for many years, than was 
generally conceived. He sought not theirs, but 
them: during, therefore, his first years as the 
Minister of St. John's, his income but very gradu- 
ally encreased, which will account for his being 



22 



MEMOIR OF THE 



so involved in his circumstances, the greater part 
of his life. During the first eighteen years, that 
is from 1780 to 1798, he made a point of paying 
the interest of the money lent for the repair of the 
Chapel. A legacy of 100/. left me by a relation, 
and another 100/. given by a friend,* and every 
smaller legacy or sum given, and all that could 
possibly be spared from domestic demands, were 
immediately devoted to paying off the principal, 
which was at length thus reduced to five hundred 
pounds, as appeared by his accounts, examined by 
his friends during his confinement in Dec. 1798. 

In gratitude to Mr. Cecil's friends I ought to 
mention, that, in the afflictive state of his health 
just referred to, they were anxious to know his 
circumstances ; and finding, on investigation, that 
part of the debt for the first repair of the Chapel 
(about 500/.) was not paid off, they generously 
made a subscription to defray it. An overplus of 
about 200/. remaining, they put this into the funds 
for his use ; but an affecting circumstance in his 
family obliged him to sell it out some time after. 

St. John's Chapel was part of the estate of the 
Rugby Charity ; the management of it was prin- 
cipally left to Sir Eardly Wilmot, one of the Rugby 
Trust, who was resident in the neighbourhood. It 
having been some time advertized, Sir Eardly 
determined, that, if he could not get a Minister 
recommended to it by the Archbishop of Canter- 

* John Thornton, Esq. 



REV. RICHARD CECIL. 



23 



bury, he would procure an act to be passed to 
make it a Parish Church. The Archbishop 
[Cornwallis] had given Mr. C. one of his Livings at 
Lewes ; and had advised him, on account of his 
health, to leave a Curate at Lewes and procure 
some duty in town. He had before recommended 
him to Dr. Ducarel, for the Surrogacy annexed to 
his Living : this Dr. D. gave to Mr. Cecil, on his 
promise of taking a Master's degree ; which pro- 
mise he performed. The Archbishop, on being 
requested to recommend Mr. C. to Sir Eardly 
Wilmot, readily complied. 

When he entered on his ministry at St. John's, 
he had a difficult and arduous path to tread. He 
had to preach to a people inimical to the spirit of 
the Gospel, on the one hand ; and to make his way 
through the prejudices of the religious part of his 
auditory, on the other — who, not comprehending 
his aim, were ready to pronounce on his plan, as 
shunning to declare the whole counsel of God. Yet 
he was wisely following the example of his Master, 
in delivering the truth, as they who heard were able 
to bear it ; and thus forming a lodgment in their 
minds, and preparing them for the full display of 
all the doctrines of the Gospel. 

Mr. C. possessed, naturally, a comprehensive 
mind, and strong judgment. When it pleased God, 
who commanded the light to shine out of darkness, to 
shine into his heart, all his natural powers received 
a new direction, and under divine influence be- 



24 



MEMOIR OF THE 



came subservient to the glorious objects which he 
had discovered and laboured to make known to 
others. Persons are often led to approve or dis- 
approve from results, either as they are success- 
ful, or unsuccessful, rather than from abstract 
views : the result, in the instance of-St. John's 
Chapel, clearly proves the wisdom of the course 
which Mr. C. pursued. 

About the year 1800, Mr. C. established an An- 
nual Sermon at St. John's, to be preached on the 
morning of May Day to young persons. He 
wished his Chapel to render assistance to charita- 
ble and pious Institutions, by occasional Sermons, 
distinct from those of the Parish School and the 
Welsh Charity, which last always attended the 
Chapel ; but in his early attempt at this, he met 
with serious remonstrances from some of the con- 
gregation: ardent, therefore, on his great point, 
of promoting the Gospel, and avoiding offence not 
absolutely necessary, no others were introduced 
for some years. He never, however, relinquished 
his original intention of rendering this benefit to 
cases which he deemed proper. Besides, there^ 
fore, the Sermons which were preached — the first 
two, namely, morning and afternoon, about Janu- 
ary for the Parish School — and the next two, about 
April, for the Welsh Charity — he introduced two 
in Dec. 1798, for a Sunday School for Religious 
Instruction, which had been established at St. 
John's ; and he occasionally added another for 



REV. RICHARD CECIL. 25 

the benefit of some charitable Institution, and had 
it in contemplation to preach one annually in fa- 
vour of the Society for Missions to Africa and the 
East. In 1807, he preached for the New Rup- 
ture Society — the original plan of which Society 
was suggested by Mr. C. # 

The Sacramental Money, collected at St. John's 
Chapel, Mr. C. appointed to be kept in the hands of 
a Treasurer, and was distributed by him, and 
three other gentlemen of the congregation, who 
were requested to assist in the distribution, to poor 
persons recommended by seat-holders, on St. 
Thomas's day — except small sums which were 
sent by the Clerk and Collector, to cases of need 
discovered in the course of the year, which were 
brought to account in the annual settlement. 

Mr. C. had for many years suffered greatly from 
a complaint, supposed to be a sciatica. On being 
seized by a more violent and acute attack, a con- 
sultation of the Faculty was held on his disorder 
on Friday, Dec. 7th, 1798; the result of which 
was, that he was prohibited from preaching any 
more while the existing symptoms continued. A 
schirrus in the caecum was now apprehended, and 
his condition was thought dangerous. The follow- 
ing Sunday, a most affecting scene took place at 
St. John's. He had been announced on the pre- 



* More than 2000 patients have been already relieved by this useful 
Institution ; which would extend its assistance far more widely still, were 
its funds adequate to this desirable object. J. P. 



26 



MEMOIR OF THE 



ceding Sunday, to preach a sermon in the morn- 
ing of this day, Dec. 9th, for the Children of the 
Sunday School attending the Chapel, and another 
in the evening to their Parents. Notwithstanding 
his prohibition by his medical friends, he deter- 
mined to make an attempt to address the people 
once more. Many circumstances conspired to 
render the scene affecting. A friend remarked, 
that a side view which he caught of his face before 
he uttered a word, chilled him to the heart. — 
Sunk — worn — and dejected! The strong was, in- 
deed, become as tow i and the mighty fallen ! His 
text added to the solemnity of the scene : — He, 
which testijieth these things, saith, Surely, I come 
quickly. Amen ! Even so, come Lord Jesus I 

He told his congregation that he was preaching 
contrary to the advice of his Physicians, and that 
he should not be able to meet them in the evening. 
He had not preached more than five minutes, be- 
fore it was visible that he was in extreme pain, 
and his feeble tone of voice proved that he was 
worne down. He could not continue his discourse 
more than 20 minutes, and then dismissed the con- 
gregation — not with the usual benediction, but in 
the last words of the Bible immediately following 
his text. The presentiment of many that this ser- 
mon would close his ministry gathered strength 
from his having chosen the concluding subject of 
the Scriptures, and ending his discourse with the 
benediction following it. After this period it 



REV. RICHARD CECIL. 



27 



pleased God, whose ways are not our ways, nor 
His thoughts our thoughts, to add twelve years to 
his life. 

During the above confinement, in the winter of 
1798, Mr. Cecil put down for his own use some 
of the particular impressions made on his mind 
through this illness, but never designed it for publi- 
cation. He had many MSS. by him, which were 
intended for the press, but his declining health, 
together with his public occupations, prevented 
their being finished. On this account, he had so- 
lemnly enjoined me to consume all his papers, 
whenever his death should take place — assuring 
me, that they were in too unfinished a state for 
public benefit.* 

In his last illness at Clifton, of which notice will 

* Though Mr. Cecil's projected plans were arranged with clearness to 
his own preception, yet they were unintelligible to any other eye : nor 
were they in such a state of preparation for the press, as would admit of 
their being finished by any other hand than his own ; as he had often assured 
me. 

If, however, this had not been the case, it would still have been im- 
possible for 31 e to have preserved them from destruction, in my relative 
situation ; and while the precipitance resulting from his diseased nerves, 
in this and other instances, took place of that calm deliberation and wisdom 
peculiar to him when in health. It is some alleviation to be convinced, as 
I fully am, that, generally speaking, his papers could not have been 
rendered useful to the public, but by his own hand. 

His anxious desire to do good, and his ever active and ardent mind, led 
him to form plans which his long and painful complaint rendered it im- 
possible for him to bring to perfection: otherwise I am persuaded, that he 
would not have destroyed any thing that might promise to prove useful. 
And a proof of this appears, in the fact of his having permitted the publica- 
tion of the " Fragment,'' printed in the third volume of his "Works ; and 
also in his reserving a M S. for my own use, consisting of sentences which 
he had collected and intended for publication. 



28 



MEMOIR OF THE 



be taken hereafter, when he apprehended that he 
should not live to return to town, he repeated his 
injunction — with the most anxious intreaty that I 
would relieve his mind, and meet his wishes, by 
destroying all his papers after his disease. Find- 
ing that nothing short of my giving him a faithful 
promise to execute his command would pacify his 
agitated mind, I reluctantly yielded — and pro- 
mised to execute his desire on one condition only — 
namely, that he would allow me to preserve, for 
my own use, the above mentioned MS. written in 
1798 (which I knew was not unfit for publication) 
and also permit me to subjoin it to this Memoir 
whenever it should be made public, to which he 
agreed.* 

Mr. Cecil, however, contrary to his apprehen- 
sions, lived to reach home ; when his determination 
respecting his papers was put in force by his own 
hand. He consumed every other MS. but the one 
I had before redeemed from the flames ; and which 
is, by an after arrangement, attached to his works. 
It will appear, both from this MS. and from the 
following extracts (taken chiefly from my own pri- 
vate memorandums, and which are distinct from 

* Mr. Cecil's reply to his son Israel on his mentioning to his father his 
feelings on reading this MS. then in the possession of a friend, may not be 
uninteresting. " I do not wonder that you felt as you express, at reading 
my feeliugs on passing through the deep waters. Alas! you saw but a 
small part of what occurred : but, by these things men live; and in all these 
things is the life of my spirit. They are what a University cannot yield ; 
nor is a Prince, as such, favoured with a taste of them. I sincerely pray 
that you may know how a thorn in the flesh becomes a special blessing. 



REV. RICHARD CECIL. 



29 



the fragment published in his works,) that, during 
this Confinement, his heart was receiving important 
lessons in the school of affliction. 

Saturday night, Dec. 8th, 1798. " This is a 
mysterious dispensation ; but I know it is a wise 
one. I did not think of ever feeling so much 
pain. I have not prayed against that. I am now 
to glorify him by suffering — I am not afraid of 
consequences — It is well /" 

Dec. 10th. To the Rev. Mr. Newton, who was 
dropping him a seasonable word of consolation, 
he replied, " It is consistent neither with reason 
nor religion, to oppose sufferings to the love of God; 
for, Whom the Lord loveth, He chasteneth; and 
scour geth every son whom he receiveth." In the 
evening of the same day to another friend, (the 
Rev. Mr. Venn,) he said " I am not afraid to die ; 
but I am afraid of being worne out by pain. 
Nature shrinks at this prospect." 

Wednesday 12th. To the Rev. Mr. Pratt he 
said — My illness gives me stronger hold of two 
points : — 1st. God must be brought near, to be 
lived on and fled to : 2d, Comfort, to be sensible 
to my heart, must spring from God's making Him- 
self sensible to me. There must be an Incarna- 
tion. I must, by faith, lay hold of my God— as 
he became man!" 

Dec. 14th. In bed— To the same friend, who 
spoke to him of the rumoured death of Buonaparte, 
and the failure of the French expedition against 



30 



MEMOIR OF THE 



Egypt, he replied — " But is Egypt to be left in it& 
present horrid state of depravity and wretchedness 
under the Turks ? — How unsearchable are the ways 
of God! He giveth 710 account of His matters. If 
God should restore me again to health, I have de- 
termined to study nothing but the Bible. Litera- 
ture is inimical to spirituality, if it be not kept un- 
der with a firm hand. A man ought to call in 
from every quarter, whatever may assist him to 
understand, explain, and illustrate the Bible: but 
there — in its light and life — is all that is good for 
man. All important truth is there ; and I feel that 
no comfort enters sick curtains from any other 
quarter. My state is an admonition to young men. 
I have been too much occupied in preparing to 
live, and too little in living. I have read too much 
from curiosity, and for mental gratification. I was 
literary, when I should have been active. We 
trifle too much. Let us do something for God. 
The man of God, is a man of feeling and activity. 
I feel and would urge with all possible strength on 
others, that Jesus Christ is our All and in All." 

On another occasion he said — In all my suffer- 
ings, except when my pain is extreme, I think I 
can in some degree say — / take pleasure in them : 
but when I am in torture, I seem to be glad that 
I can bear it without a murmur, which I have not 
felt that I know of; but I cannot say, I take plea- 
sure in it. As to being broken down, I perfectly 
agree to it ; distress, poverty, reproach, infirmity. 



REV. RICHARD CECIL. 



31 



are fine things to humble a high spirit. The Phy- 
sicians do not know my case — but I do : it is the 
finger of God — and I am to learn from it various 
important lessons ; and, among the rest, the suf- 
ficiency of His grace. I have prayed thrice : 
sure I ought to be content with the answer to St. 
Paul!" 

To a friend he said — " It has been a night of 
great pain, but it was a night appointed me by 
Jesus Christ ; and sure it must be a good one, that 
He appoints ! Had I laid down my life for you, 
your good nights would have been my anxious 
care." At another time — ' 6 I have great peace— 
not a ruffled breeze — night nor day — and this is all 
grounded on the doctrine of Jesus Christ. Give 
up that, and I should have no sleep to-night. All 
is pitch darkness without it — dark as a Socinian — 
dark as a Moralist. There is no light, but what 
Christ brings." At another time, while attending 
him in the night, he said to me— 6 4 It is an extra- 
ordinary statement, that though God loves me 
much better than you do, yet he does not relieve 
me. I am to partake, as a member of Christ, the 
sufferings of Christ. It pleased the Lord to bruise 
Him, for the good of man ; and he afflicts man, for 
his good. If I recover, I shall be a better preacher 
— that is, I shall be more humble ! I have many 
comforts ; but perhaps I shall be so sick as to say, 
Lord! it is enough, take away my life, I am now 
often thankful for five minutes ease; and I wonder 



32 



MEMOIR OF THE 



I was not much more so for that of fifty years/' 
At another time — " God knows my ease : and, in 
pain, in difficulty, in sickness, he says—' It is I: 
be not afraid: Commit yourself to me!' Jesus 
Christ is my great hold : nothing can happen 
without His knowledge and permission." 

To one, who spoke to him of his illness, he said 
— " It is all Christ. I keep death in view. If 
God does not please to raise me up, He intends 
me better. I knoiv whom I have believed. How 
little we think of improving the time we have, 
while we have opportunity ! I find every thing 
but religion, vanity. I am ready, even on this sick 
bed, to preach to preachers. I ask myself, what 
is my hold and support — what will remain with 
me, when every thing else is washed away ? To 
recollect a promise of the Bible — this is substance! 
Nothing will do but the Bible. If I read authors, 
and hear different opinions, I cannot say, " this 
is truth! — I cannot grasp it as substance: but 
the Bible gives me something to hold. I have 
learnt more within these curtains, than from all the 
books I ever read. — I sometimes speculate on the 
idea of a souls leaving the body, and wandering 
forth into the world of space ; but it is alone — 
wandering in solitude — It is wretched because 
alone; to say nothing of misery: but let a ray 
from Christ shine on that soul, and no matter 
where it is — it is happy !" 

The violence of this attack was mercifullv 



REV. RICHARD CECIL. 



33 



abated; and Mr. Cecil was so far recovered, that 
hie ventured, on the 24th Feb. 1799, to preach the 
Evening Lecture at St. John's* Though he began 
With the precaution of reading his sermons, yet he 
found the exertion too much for his broken state 
of strength and spirits; and he was convinced that 
God called him to retirement and repose. Such 
a dispensation, to a mind like his, required no com- 
mon measure of faith and patience. He was, at 
length, by a blessing on the means used, enabled 
to resume his usual duty, though under much re- 
maining infirmity. 

Speaking of his afflicted state, he said, " My 
dispensation is wonderful. That I am able to meet 
the frequent returns of my public duty is almost 
miraculous. Not one of my hearers has any idea 
of the quantity of pain I endure in the course of 
twenty-four hours ; and yet, if it were ever to be 
upon me at the moment I was called to preach, it 
would be utterly impossible for me to begin." 

But it was not only during the above period that 
Mr. C. suffered much pain ; but, year after year, 
it remained as a clog on his efforts, and as a worm 
at the root of his constitution. Frequently, after 
suffering greatly all the preceding night, he has 
gone forth in the morning to his public duty so fee- 
ble and emaciated, that I have dreaded the con- 
sequences of his entering the pulpit. But, still 
stimulated and animated by love and zeal, he went 
through his duty, by divine assistance, without any 
t D 



34 



MEMOIR OF THE 



appearance of his suffering state, or any other per- 
ceptible effect, save that feeling and unction which 
it produced. As the face of Moses, when he came 
down from the Mount, was seen to shine : so was 
it evident, in Mr. Cecil's discourses, that he had not 
suffered so many things in vain ; but that he was 
refined in the furnace of affliction, to shew forth 
His glory who had called him. He acquired a 
more keen perception and feeling of the vanity of 
all human things : he stripped off the mask from 
the face of the world — shewed its poverty and 
emptiness — its enchantments — its snares — and its 
pretensions, as delusive and fallacious : he drew 
aside the veil — and exhibited those glorious reali- 
ties in reversion for the faithful, on which his soul 
delighted to dwell, and of which he is now in the 
full enjoyment. 

Thus exercised with affliction, he persevered in 
preaching (making use of a seat in the pulpit) till a 
paralysis deprived the Church of his labours. His 
patience under his great and long sufferings was 
surprising. By them many interior experiences 
and excellent ideas were wrung from him, while a 
word of complaint was never heard to come forth 
from his lips. 

In June 1798, previous to the above confine- 
ment, Mr. C. sent the following reflections to a 
friend under affliction, to whom they were pecu- 
liarly appropriate, and by whose favour I obtain 
them — 



REV. RICHARD CECIL. 



35 



" Sunday noon. — In great pain—disposed to 
preach again, on a new text — She answered, It is 
well. That is, God is wiser than I am. He 
hnoweth the way that I take, and, when lam tried, 
I shall come forth as gold. He knows how to 
bring good out of this evil. What can He take 
away, that He cannot makeup to me? Pain, loss, 
solitude — what are ye?— The way home! — He 
knows the way that is enough. He has pro- 
mised to be with me in the way : that is more than 
enough. 

" It is well — that is, God is mightier than I 
am. — He can make this dying and painful way, 
the way of life — the way of comfort—the way of 
joy, as well as holiness. He has done it ten 
thousand times : I have seen it done. What child 
is he whom his Father chasteneth not ? I would 
be a son, but not scourged. I am a fool, whom 
even experience can scarcely make wise. — I see 

, and , and , whom he does not 

chastise ; all professors — but are they sons ?— I see 

, and , who are sinking under their 

troubles, and going to Satan for comfort, because 
they are not sons. 

" It is well — that is, He is better than I am. 
He has thoughts of peace, while I indulge thoughts 
of evil. He means better than I can give Him 
credit for. He asks me for nothing but time and 
trust, in order to make the whole plain and gra- 
cious to my eye : " No !" say I : " shew it me now, 

D 2 



36 



MEMOIR OF THE 



and it sufficeth."— " What '!" saith He— Am I 
alone not to be trusted ? How many of my crea- 
tures have you trusted for what you could not see ! 
How often have you rested on dust and ashes, as 
on a sure foundation! — Go— Go — and learn your 
horn-book, and then you will say without stam- 
mering It is ivell F 

" Wednesday morning. — Pain left me after the 
above was put down, and then it was thrown aside ; 
but returned this morning at four o'clock, and 
drove me from the bed to begin again. But with 
nothing new. — It is well — God is more holy than 
If and will burn up the dross. He is more faith- 
ful, and does not forget his promise, to purify the 
sons of Levi, that they may first present a pure 
offering, and then be offered up themselves !" 

I proceed to the year 1800 — when Mr. Cecil 
was requested by Samuel Thornton, Esq. to take 
the Livings of Chobham and Bisley ; which his fa- 
ther, the ever-memorable John Thornton, Esq. had 
bought, and had left in the hands of trustees. Mr. 
Cecil, though duly sensible of the favour, yet could 
not be prevailed on to think of accepting these Liv- 
ings; and was so fully determined against it, that 
he returned several refusals, in answer to pressing 
requests by letter, that he would accept them. He 
was also informed by Mr. Thornton, that it was 
his fathers intention, that the unbeneficed trustees* 
(of whom Mr. C. was one) were to have the first 
offer, and he repeated his wishes, with many 



REV. RICHARD CECIL. 



37 



friendly arguments— particularly, the danger in 
Mr. Cecil's state of health, of his becoming inca- 
pable of going on at St. John's^ without some relief 
from that arduous post. Mr. C. continued, how- 
ever, to retain his objections : but an old friend 
hinted to him, that he might be resisting a call in 
providence. To this intimation he listened, and 
consented to refer the business to the trustees, and 
a few select friends who should meet for the 
purpose of determining the question. They ac- 
cordingly met together, and were unanimous in 
resolving it to be the duty of a man in Mr. Cecil's 
circumstances, family, and health to accept the 
Livings, and serve them in the summer* 

But, in going to these Livings, he went rather 
to labour than to rest. He forgot his broken state 
of constitution, when he set up in the Church two 
extra Lectures — one on the Sunday evening, and 
the other on a week-day. During the first years, 
he principally preached them himself, and with 
great success. To conciliate one of his parishes, 
he left the tythes to be fixed by three neighbouring 

* By these Livings about 1501. per annum was added to his income. 
After his fatal malady took place, and his pecuniary affairs naturally de- 
volved on me, I judged it expedient to inform myself correctly respecting 
them. Accordingly I had a minute account taken, both of the income and 
of the expenditure of the Livings of Chobham and Bisley. In the account 
returned to me, both were stated at large : the net income was 2351. per 
annum: out of this remained to be deducted, the expence of supplying St. 
John's daring Mr. Cecil's absence ; and that attending the removal of our 
family to Chobham and back again. All these deductions taken into the 
calculation, the whole advantage to Mr. Cecil's income could not, at most, 
be estimated at more than 1501, 



38 



MEMOIR OF THE 



farmers ; and used every other means to gain the 
affection of his parishioners. There also, he 
sought not theirs, but them : and when his son re- 
monstrated with him on the occasion, he replied 
? ' If by taking one guinea more I should excite 
prejudices in a single mind against my message, I 
should defeat my great project in coming to this 
place." 

Mr. Cecil found these parishes, like others where 
the light of truth has scarcely dawned, sunk in the 
depths of ignorance and immorality — very few 
hearers in the Church, while many were making 
the Sabbath a day of sport and amusement. He 
found that there also, as in other places whither 
he had been led by providence, he had to begin at 
the very foundation, under the most discouraging 
circumstances, as will appear from the impression 
made on his mind, on his first going among them. 
He says, " When I first came to Chobham, as I 
was sitting in the Vestry — on hearing the noise and 
uproar of the boys, and the people in the gallery 
talking aloud to each other — I burst into tears ; 
and felt with the Prophet, when he said — Can 
these dry bones live ? — But the fields were white un- 
to the harvest: he did not labour in vain among 
this people : a large and attentive congregation was 
collected, and many saiv the day of the Son of 
Man, and were glad : some of these are already 
entered into rest, where both he, that sowed, and 
those, who reaped, now rejoice together. 



REV. RICHARD CECIL. 



39 



There being no house to either of the Livings, 
except a ruin inhabited by a labourer, nor any that 
eould be engaged for Mr. Cecil's residence, he spent 
the first few summers in part of a house since pur- 
chased by the Rev. Mr. Jerram. After this, a very 
generous friend, Thomas Bainbridge, Esq. of Guild- 
ford Street, purchased eleven acres of ground, and 
built on it for Mr. C. a convenient house, which he 
let at a low rent. Mr. C. spent a few months in 
it, while it was unfinished, in the summer of 1807; 
but did not live to see it, after it was completed. 

I cannot pass from this subject, without re- 
marking, not only this instance of Mr. B's kind- 
ness, in burdening himself with this undertaking, 
which he did with a most disinterested, liberal, and 
friendly desire of relieving Mr. C. from fatigue, 
care and anxiety; but also his marked regard in 
other instances, which has been uniformly that 
of a faithful friend. When Mr. Cecil was laid 
aside in the year 1808, Mr. B. was one of the two 
friends who proposed a private subscription, in- 
tended, as before observed, as a resource when the 
rent from the lease of St. Johns should fail, which 
had then but about ten years to run. Mr. B. sub- 
scribed largely himself ; and, in every way, proved 
himself no common friend. 

Nor did Mr. B's kindness end here. During 
the period when Mr. Cecils illness occasioned our 
absence from town for nine months, his house was 
the asylum of our son Israel, wherein he received 



40 



MEMOIR OF THE 



the most kind and friendly attentions, both from 
Mr. and Mrs. B. Before we removed from Clifton, 
our dear child was seized with a fatal disease, 
which confined him to his bed seven weeks, in the 
most extreme suffering. Through this time of ex- 
tremity and fatigue, no possible care, no expence, 
no labour was spared. Some young friends assi- 
duously attended him, night and day, to his last 
hour. Mrs. B. with the solicitude of a mother, 
and with unexampled kindness, watched by his 
bed : in a word, our son found both a Mother and 
a Father, who were willing and able to render the 
dear sufferer far beyond what his own fathers house 
could have yielded him. 

Though his father arrived in town, while our son 
was still living, and only a street or two separated 
them, yet the distressing illness of both rendered 
their seeing each other again in this world impos- 
sible. Their next meeting was reserved for a day 
unmixed with such calamity! There was reason 
to hope, from many favourable evidences, that the 
God of his Father had begun a gracious work in 
his heart some time previous to his illness ; and 
which, I trust, was carried on in his sick chamber, 
till he was fully prepared, by sovereign grace, for 
an inheritance in the Heavenly Jerusalem, among 
the spirits of just men made perfect, and for a 
joyful re-union with that Father who was so soon 
to follow him — whom he so tenderly loved and so 
highly revered ; and of whom he wrote in a manner 



REV. RICHARD CECIL. 



41 



so pathetic and affectionate in a letter to a friend 
while his beloved Father was at Bath, that I must 
be allowed to transcribe a part of his letter: — 

Chobham, 1808. 

" I assure you, I feel, notwithstanding the kind- 
ness and number of my friends, a very unaccoun- 
table depression of spirits — or, rather, the mind 
revolving on its own observations and views, of the 
various changes I am now witnessing, with those 
also that are passed. — In all my companions— no 
father! In all my conversations — none like 
him! In all my doubts — no oracle like him! In all 
my fears and anxieties — no refuge like his genero- 
sity > I feel his loss — though surrounded with the 
prodigality of liberality and kindness." 

I return to the sad period of 1807, when Mr.C. 
had a slight paralytic affection — from which he 
recovered sufficiently to resume his ministerial la- 
bours. At this period, in answer to a letter from 
a friend, enquiring after his health, he says, 44 1 
have been indeed, much indisposed ; and even now 
find sitting upright rather difficult : therefore, as 
proud men must be brought down, I must call my 
son to conclude this , '— 44 We are all under a gene- 
ral dispensation; and this dispensation is sometimes 
so contrary to the feelings of nature, that we are 
apt to resist and say, 4 Why am I thus?' I find it 
easy to tell the people from the pulpit how to act 
in such cases, and particularly Christians: but 
things are stronger than we are ; and I find it 



42 



MEMOIR OF THE 



very difficult to act myself. People say, and phy- 
sicians too, that my preaching three times a day 
through the hot weather at St. John's was the 
cause of my present infirmity — a state, in which I 
have not only seemed to lose my faculties, but, at 
one time, was unable to speak at all. I dare say 
they are right : but I have an interior feeling, 
which, while I hear people talking thus on the sub- 
ject, makes me smile, and say within myself 
- You talk well, but you know nothing of the mat- 
ter. God is in this thing ; and He is teaching me 
a lesson, which I cannot learn from books'." 

In February 1808, another paralytic seizure took 
place ; which deprived him of the use of his right 
side, and totally disabled him from further exer- 
tions in public. Electricity was ordered, and ad- 
ministered with great kindness and attention; but 
proving ineffectual, he was then ordered to Bath. 
The expences of such a journey not being within 
his own power, a few friends readily and cheerfully 
subscribed to assist him in this undertaking; so that 
he was relieved from carefulness in this respect; 
and from difficulty, so far as the kindness and 
liberality of friends could relieve him. His full 
relief, however, was on its way ; and the time now 
hastening, when the sickness and sorrows of a 
worne-out traveller were to be exchanged for an 
eternal iveight of glory, in that state where the 
righteous shine forth as the sun in the kingdom of 
their Father. 



REV. RICHARD CECIL. 



43 



After having tried the Bath Waters for several 
months, and receiving no benefit, he was ordered 
to try change of air. Here, again, he appears the 
Child of Providence. He often used to say — " I 
set out with nothing, but dependance on God — 
resolving to do his work, and leave all the rest 
to Him. I know that he will take care and pro- 
vide for me." This was his habitual sentiment. 
Nor was his faith vain ; for, as extremity arose, 
some gracious providence was prepared to meet 
his necessities. Of this the following is a very 
striking instance. 

Isaac Cooke, Esq. of Clifton, near Bristol, a 
gentleman, whom Mr. Cecil had never seen, but 
who had heard him preach (being occasionally in 
town,) who was neither an old friend — nor one of 
his congregation— nor even a neighbour, except in 
the sense of our Lord, Luke x. — this was the friend 
by whom his way was graciously directed to Clif- 
ton, and who urged by letter his acceptance of a 
ready furnished house there, for any length of time. 
This generous offer he thankfully accepted, and 
occupied the house for nearly six months. Here 
he found every provision for all his wants, and 
every possible administration to his comfort; and 
was, together with this, amply supplied with the 
means for meeting those various demands of sick- 
ness, which it was impossible even for the kindest 
eye of friendship to anticipate. 

On his first going to Clifton, in Sept. 1808, he 



44 



MEMOIR OF THE 



derived considerable benefit from the change of 
air : but, toward the latter part of the time, his 
disease began to encrease, and he became anxious 
to return home. He was advised by his medical 
friends to give the Bath Waters a second trial in 
his way to town ; but, receiving no benefit from 
them, we shortly proceeded on our journey— a 
journey full of anxiety and apprehension— as his 
weakness was at that time so extreme, that tra- 
velling appeared almost impossible; and would 
have been intirely so, but for the exertions of his 
friend, who obtained for him an easy coach, with 
an inside arrangement by which Mr. C. was ena- 
bled to travel in a reclining position. Thus ac- 
commodated, he performed the journey in five 
days, without injury ; and arrived in town in March, 
1809. The expences of the journey were defrayed 
by our Clifton friend ; nor did this friend leave Mr. 
C. here, but continued his kindness throughout all 
the future stages of his remaining life. 

On Mr. Cecil's arrival at his house in Little 
James Street, in the spring of 1809, with his nerves 
shattered and his state of health broken, the sud- 
den heat of the weather, together with the closeness 
and noise of the town greatly encreased his 
sufferings, and he became extremely anxious to 
remove from its tumult and distraction. He was, 
at this time, in a state which can be little appre- 
hended, even by invalids themselves ; much less 
by those in health and vigour. It was, however, 



REV. RICHARD CECIL. 45 

k state to him, and a season to me, replete with 
difficulties, which seemed encreasing on all sides. 
His anxiety to leave town became stronger daily : 
but, no possible way seemed open ; and I could 
only, like Hagar, bewail miseries I could neither 
remove nor mitigate : nor, like her, could I appre- 
hend the relief that was so near at hand. These 
difficulties were removed by our friend Charles 
Offley, Esq. then of Great Ormond Street. Mrs. O. 
on seeing Mr. C. and observing the distressing state 
of his nerves, was indefatigable in seeking for a 
suitable retreat for him ; but, not meeting with a 
situation near town, after many researches, she de- 
termined to go to Tunbridge Wells, conceiving 
that both the air and waters might be advantage- 
ous to Mr. C. She took a house there for the 
season, on a very open spot, at Mr. O's expense ; 
and Mr. C. went to it, accordingly, in May, 1809: 
but, as we fatally know, did not derive the hoped- 
for benefit from these very favourable circum- 
stances. 

In the month of Oct. 1809, he came back to 
town for the Winter: but, on the return of the 
Spring, he found all his sufferings return with it; 
and again he anxiously desired to remove into 
the country. This brings my history back to his 
Clifton friend, of whom I observed, that after con- 
veying Mr. C. to town, he did not resign him there. 
At Tunbridge his favours followed him ; and after 
Mr. Cecil's return from thence to town in Oct.1809, 



46 



MEMOIR OF THE 



and when the lease of his Chapel was disposed of 
and his income necessarily straitened, this friend 
engaged to supply him with an annual remittance 
during his life ; which was devoted to his benefit, 
as the means of procuring a house for him through 
the summer months ; and by which, together with 
a sum collected by Mr. C's nephew in his family 
circle for the same purpose, these expences were 
supplied. 

With this provision, we proceeded to take a 
house at Belie- Vue, Hampstead, in a quiet and 
airy situation. Thither we removed in April 1810; 
and here Mr. Cecil's general health and spirits 
were much benefited. But it pleased God to re- 
move him from thence to a house more congenial 
to the desires of his soul, eternal in the heavens ! 
By a fit of apoplexy his spirit was released from 
the body of death, Aug. 15th, 1810 — a bereave- 
ment to his family — to the Church — and to the 
world, irreparable — an affliction, calling for silent 
submission to Divine Wisdom ; and only mitigated 
by the assurance of his being from thenceforth for 
ever with the Lord. 

On this mournful occasion, the attentions of 
William Blair, Esq. of Great Russel Street, were 
exemplary and unremitted. His prompt attend- 
ance, tender sympathy, and kind watchfulness to 
the last moment, I shall ever bear in grateful re- 
membrance. 

I should be more strictly fulfilling the desire of 



REV. RICHARD CECIL. 47 

the deceased, on the subject of Mr. Cooke's kind- 
ness to him, were I to enter more into the detail— 
and in tracing this instance of divine care, I wished 
to have had the liberty of inserting a few extracts 
from his friendly letters, which bear the best 
evidence on this subject. But, in requesting per- 
mission to do this, I received a positive refusal, 
with a prohibition to mention, either his name or 
any of the favours which he had rendered. I am, 
however compelled, either to do violence to his 
desire and determination to remain concealed, or 
to violate an injunction repeatedly enforced by Mr. 
C. to bear a testimony for him, when he was no 
longer able to express it himself, to the kindness 
of that brother who was thus raised up to meet 
this day of his adversity — one, whose administra- 
tions resembled those of an affectionate son to a 
beloved father. Expressions of regard and con- 
cern like these, so uncommon, so unexpected, 
could not fail of fixing a deep, lasting, and grateful 
impression on Mr. Cecil's mind — nor of aiding my 
imagination in the vivid conception, that I still 
hear him — in words similar to these of the Apostle 
' — 6 f The Lord give mercy unto his household for 
he oft refreshed me — sought me out — and found 
me. The Lord grant unto him that he may find 
grace in that day — In how many things he minis- 
tered to me, thou knowest very we'll" I feel bound 
however, to avoid entering into particulars — know- 
ing the pain that even this slight glance will 



43 



MEMOIR OF THE 



occasion to one, whom gratitude would ever lead 
me to regard with the strictest delicacy. But, not 
to speak on the subject at all, would be to vio- 
late Mr. Cecil's dying command ; and to hide from 
the eye of the w orld another special instance of 
Gods gracious care, in supplying the wants of his 
servants in all ages — at one period, by the wing 
of a raven — at another, by a widow woman — and 
at another, by the extraordinary kindness of a 
friend. 

It was not, however from this friend and all his 
family, only, that Mr. C. met with marked kind- 
ness. Various other friends, in and about the 
neighbourhood of Bristol, affectionately and libe- 
rally ministered to him of their substance : and it 
must ever remain, both to myself when contem- 
plating the sorrowful path so lately trodden, and 
to Mr. Cecil's benevolent friends, a continual source 
of consolation, to reflect, that nothing by them was' 
left undone, which could afford a hope of prolong- 
ing a life so valuable, or of mitigating affliction so 
acute. 

Amidst the general concern and anxiety which 
the affliction of a Father in Israel excited in the 
minds of his friends, the particular instance of that 
of his highly valued friend Dr. Fearon was mani- 
fest. Various and unabating were his efforts to 
administer relief and comfort. Difficulty, or dis- 
tance of place, was no impediment in the way 
of his ardent endeavours. He travelled many 



REV. RICHARD CECIL. 



49 



hundred miles to visit him— when he was at Bath 
— at Clifton — and at Tunbridge — as well as when 
he was at his house in town ; and though damped 
in his hopes, on perceiving the inveterate progress 
of Mr. C's disease, yet his kindness and watchful- 
ness abated not, from the period of his first attack 
in the year 1807, till he ceased longer to remain a 
recipient of human affection and care. 

Verily, there is a reward for the righteous /—If 
we are taught that every man will have to give an 
account of his works — and if we are taught to be- 
lieve that every hour bears a report to heaven of 
the deeds done in the body — and if every man will 
receive a just recompence of reward at the final 
judgment— we may faintly conceive the joy of the 
righteous, on hearing the declaration — Inasmuch 
as ye did it to one of these — ye did it unto me ! 
— May not the providential assistances alluded to, 
be numbered among the answers to the prayer of 
faith, simple dependence, and firm reliance on di- 
vine help ? — and a fulfilment of that promise of our 
Lord's, Verily I say unto you, there is no man that 
hath left house, or brethren, or sisters, or father, or 
mother, or ivife, or children, or lands for my sake 
and the gospel's, but he shall receive an hundred 
fold now in this time, houses, and brethren, and 
sisters, and mothers, and children, and lands ( with 
persecution ), and in the world to come eternal life. 

But, the time dreiv nigh when Israel must die — 
Death was a subject familiar to the beloved cha- 

t E 



50 



MEMOIR OF THE 



racter of whom I write. He had fought the good 
fight, kept the faith, and was ready to be offered up. 
He gradually declined, protesting his unshaken 
confidence in the truths which he had so long 
preached, and endeavoured to impress on his family 
and others. At length, he became so weak and 
nervous, that he spoke but little; and was fre- 
quently, through the prevalence of disease, a painful 
subject of depression. 

Neither the power of medicine, nor the affec- 
tionate solicitude of friends, nor the advantage of 
the finest situations, can effectually relieve, contrary 
to the divine appointment. Mr. C. still found his 
weakness continue ; or, as he termed it, he " was 
quite worn out." His exertions for many years, 
particularly at St. John's, were such, as nature sunk 
under. 

In the early part of his ministry, he had been used 
to preach four times on the Sunday in different 
Churches, as has been before stated, beside fre- 
quently reading the prayers ; and, the last summer 
he spent in town before his paralytic seizure, he fre- 
quently preached three times on the Sunday at St. 
John's. Such exertions were painfully observed, 
by myself and his friends, as likely to produce fatal 
consequences. He was indefatigable in his labours, 
and fatigue he disregarded. I have often regretted 
his lying in bed, long wakeful ; and, on enquiring 
wherefore, he has replied, " I have been making a 
Sermon." He was urged to unbend his mind from 



REV. RICHARD CECIL. 



51 



study ; but his habit was fixed, and he found it 
difficult to withdraw his mind from close thinking. 
He never seemed weary of his studies : they were 
not only his business, but his enjoyment and re- 
creation — and he used to call it his rest : he felt 
all demands that infringed on these, his labour, 
and the return to his study his rest. Few more 
carefully aimed to redeem time, and to spend it 
only in what was worthy of a Man and a Christian 
Minister — Often repeating 

u For at my back I always hear 
Time's winged Chariot hurrying near ; 
And onwards, all before, I see 
Deserts of vast eternity!" 

It cannot be doubted but that Mr. Cecil's ardu- 
ous habits shortened his days : this must ever be 
deplored ; but a consoling reflection remains, in the 
contemplation of his great usefulness during his 
life. His ministry was successful, wherever he was 
called to reside : some in every place stand as his 
witnesses, and will rise up and call him blessed. 

But, while his success was so uniform, and he 
met with general acceptation wherever he went, 
this popularity was accompanied with a large por- 
tion of humility : no one, who knew him intimately, 
can question this for a moment. No man living 
could be further removed from ostentation: he 
was, with others, alive to encouragement, but 
unmoved by flattery. I have often been quite 

astonished at hearing iiim speak of his attainments 

' ; 



52 



MEMOIR OF THE 



and of his labours, in terms which no one could 
grant as applicable to him. I have reflected, 
' 4 Surely Mr. C. must know his own comparative 
attainments ! " but I have still perceived that his 
acumen of mind led him to extend his view far 
beyond what he had attained, while he really had 
attained such a portion of habitual humility, that 
he very sincerely esteemed others better than him- 
self: yet, in fact, most of the various points of 
excellence in other characters were evidently 
united in his own. 

Nothing is more common to observation, than 
persons mistaking qualities of mind, which, in ap- 
pearance, resemble each other. Dignified senti- 
ment and conduct are termed pride; firmness — 
obstinacy ; energy— severity ; originality — eccen- 
tricity ; and consummate pride is often mistaken 
for humility. Mr. C. certainly possessed a dignity 
of mind and conduct — firmness — energy — and 
originality: but was as far removed from pride, 
obstinacy, severity, and eccentricity as most who 
still bear about a depraved nature and its conse- 
quent imperfections. 

It is needless for me to state what acceptance 
Mr. C. received at St. John's. His affectionate 
attachment to that place and people, and the 
pleasure with which he laboured among them, will 
best appear by his own expression of it. " I may 
say, * Up from my youth have I been nursed in 
tears:' for, wherever I have been, I have ex- 



REV. RICHARD CECIL. 



perienced some degree of unkind treatment and 
ingratitude, except at St. John's. It is no wonder, 
therefore, that my ministry there is my delight." 
He felt at home no where but at St. John's. 
How, and in what spirit he laboured in this fruitful 
field, it is not necessary for me to say. This will be 
taken up by another pen. His works, however, not 
only follow him; but will remain with us, so long as 
memory remains : and, should forgetful nature be- 
come unmindful, we may recal the remembrance 
of him who had the rule over us; and, again, in the 
spirit and words of the Apostle, hear him appealing 
to our consciences : — For our exhortation was not 
of deceit, nor of uncleanness, nor in guile : But, as 
we were allowed of God to he 'put in trust with the 
Gospel, even so we speak; not as pleasing men, but 
God, which trieth our hearts. For neither, at any 
time, used we flattering words, as ye know; nor a 
cloak of covetousness, God is witness. Nor of men 
sought we glory ; neither of you, nor yet of others, 
when we might have been burdensome as the Apostles 
of Christ. But we tvere gentle among you, even as 
a nurse cherisheth her children : so, being affection- 
ately desirous of you, we were willing to have 
imparted unto you, not the Gospel of God only, but 
also our oivn souls, because ye were dear unto us. 
For ye remember, brethren, our labour and travel: 
for, labouring night and day, because we would not 
be chargeable unto any of you, we preached unto you 
the Gospel of God. Ye are witnesses, and God 



54 



MEMOIR OF THE 



also, how holily, and justly, and unblameably we be- 
haved ourselves among you that believe : as ye know 
how we exhorted, and comforted, and charged every 
one of you, as a father doth his children, that ye 
would walk worthy of God who hath called you unto 
his kingdom and glory" 

I will only add, before I close this subject, an in- 
stance of his continued and anxious solicitude for 
the place which his soul loved — the welfare and 
prosperity of his congregation lay near his heart : 
even when his increasing disease allowed him little 
hope of resuming his delightful employ of minister- 
ing among them again, he desired me, while at 
Clifton in the winter of 1808, to put down from 
his lips the following memorandum: — " I have 
sunk considerably more than 2000/. during the 
time I have laboured at St. John's Chapel, in its 
repair and improvements : and I am now anxious, 
that, whoever takes the future management of it, 
should conduct it in the same order; and that 
no new customs should be introduced — that all 
neglects and abuses may be watched over and 
restrained — and that the same grave and holy uni- 
formity be preserved." 

It is to be lamented, that, in Mr. Cecil's last 
illness, we were deprived of that rich vein of reflec- 
tions, with which we were privileged during his 
confinement in the year 1798, and which the 
nature of his fatal disease now impeded. In 
1798, though he was torne with pain, yet his mind 



REV. RICHARD CECIL. 



55 



retained its full vigour : but, in his last illness, his 
mind became emaciated as well as his body; and 
it need not be remarked, that a paralysis often 
makes as fatal an attack on the mind as on the 
body : in all cases it weakens, and frequently de- 
ranges.* 

* The view of Mr. Cecil's final disease, and the effects of it on his mind, 
are so justly stated by the Rev. Daniel Wilson, in the second of the two 
Sermons which he preached at St. John's on occasion of Mr. Cecil's death, 
that, with his permission, I here insert it : — 

" During the whole period of his last illness, a space of nearly three 
years, the state of his mind fluctuated with his malady. Every one, who 
has had opportunities of observing the operation of palsy, knows, that, 
without destroying, or, properly speaking, perverting, the reasoning powers, 
it agitates and enervates them. Every object is presented through a dis- 
coloured medium. False premises are assumed ; and the mind is some- 
times more than usually expert in drawing inferences accordingly. In a 
word, the whole system is deranged and shattered. An excessive care 
and irritation and despondency are produced, under the impression of 
which the sufferer acts every moment, without being at all aware of the 
cause. His morbid anxiety is, besides, fixed on some inconsiderable or 
ideal matter, which he magnifies and distorts ; whilst he remains incapable 
of attending to concerns of superior moment ; and any attempts to rectify 
his misapprehensions quicken the irritation, and increase the effects of the 
disorder. 

" Under this peculiar visitation it pleased God that oilr late venerable 
father should labour. The energy, and decision, and grandeur of his 
natural powers, therefore, gradually gave way, and a morbid feebleness 
succeeded. Yet even in this afflicting state, with his body on one side 
almost lifeless, his organs of speech impaired, and his judgment weakened, 
the spiritual dispositions of his heart displayed themselves in a very remark- 
able manner. He appeared great in the ruins of nature ; and his eminently 
religious character manifested itself, to the honour of divine grace, in a 
manner which surprised all who were acquainted with the ordinary effects 
of paralytic complaints. The actings of hope were, of course, impeded ; 
but the habit of grace, which had been forming in his mind for thirty or 
forty years, shone through the cloud. At such a period there was no room 
for fresh acquisitions. The real character of the man could only appear, 
when disease allowed it to appear at all, according to the grand leading 
habits of his life. If his habits had been ambitious, or sensual, or covetous, 
or worldly, these tendencies, if any, would have displayed themselves ; 
but as his soul had been long established in grace, and spiritual religion 



56 



MEMOIR OF THE 



Nevertheless, through all obstacles, his mind, 
like the compass, tended ever and only to his one 
grand object — his interest in his Saviour, and the 

had been incorporated with all his trains of sentiment and affection, and 
had become like a second nature, the holy dispositions of his heart acted 
with remarkable constancy under all the variations of his illness: so that 
one of his oldest friends observed to me, that if he had to choose the portion 
of his life, since he first knew him, in which the evidences of a state of 
salvation were most decisive, he should, without a moment's hesitation, 
select the period of his last distressing malady. 

" Throughout his illness, his whole mind, instead of being fixed on some 
mean and insignificent concern, was riveted on spiritual objects. Every 
other topic was so uninteresting to him, and even burdensome, that he 
could with reluctance allow it to be introduced. The value of his soul, 
the emptiness of the world, the nearness and solemnity of death, were 
ever on his lips. He spent his whole time in reading the Scripture, and 
one or two old divines, particularly Archbishop Leighton. All he said 
and did was as a man on the brink of an eternal state. 

" His humility, also, evidently ripened as he approached his end. He 
was willing to receive advice from every quarter. He listened with 
anxiety to any hint that was offered him. His view of his own misery and 
helplessness as a sinner, and of the necessity of being entirely indebted to 
divine grace, and being saved as the greatest monument of its efficacy, 
was continually on the increase. 

" His simplicity and fervour, in speaking of the Saviour, were also 
very remarkable. As he drew nearer to death, his one topic was— Jesus 
Christ. All his anxiety and care were centred in this grand point. His 
apprehensions of the work and glory of Christ, of the extent and suitable- 
ness of his salvation, and of the unspeakable importance of being spiritually 
united to him, were, more distinct and simple, if possible, than at any 
period of his life. He spake of Him to his family, with the feeling, and 
interest, and seriousness of the aged and dying believer. 

" His faith, also, never failed. I have heard him, with faltering and 
feeble lips, speak of the great foundations of Christianity with the fullest 
confidence. He said, he never saw so clearly the truth of the doctrines 
which he had been preaching, as since his illness. His view of the cer- 
tainty and excellency of God's promises was in Christ unshaken. 

" The interest, likewise, which he took in the success of the Gospel, 
was prominent, when his disease at all remitted. His own people lav- 
near his heart: and, when a providence had occurred which he hoped 
would promote their benefit, he expressed himself with old Simeon, ' Lord, 
now lettest thou thy servant depart in peace.' 

* The principal effect of his distemper was in throwing a cloud over 



REV. RICHARD CECIL. 



57 



infinite concerns of eternity : from this his atten- 
tion could not be diverted by any subject of a 
temporal nature, save one only, and that, with 

his comfort ; yet, in producing this, the spiritual tendency of his mind ap- 
peared. His diseased depression operated indeed, but it was in leading 
him to set a high standard of holiness, to bring together elevated marks 
of regeneration, and to require decisive evidences of a spirit of faith and 
adoption. The acuteness of his judgment then argued so strongly from 
these false premises, that he necessarily excluded himself, almost entirely 
from the consolation of hope. If I may allowed a theological term — the 
objective acts of faith ; those that related to the grand objects proposed 
in the Scriptures on the testimony of God, such as the work of redemption, 
the person of Christ, and the virtue of his blood, remained the same ; nay, 
were ripened and strengthened as his dissolution approached : but the 
subjective acts of faith ; those which respected his own interest in these 
blessings, and which gave life to the exercises of hope ; rose and sunk 
with his disease. He was precisely like a man oppressed by a heavy 
weight ; as the load was lightened, he began to move and exert himself hi 
his natural manner : when the burden was increased, he sunk down again 
under the oppression. 

" About a year before his death, when his powers of mind had for a 
long time been debilitated, but still retained some remnants of their 
former vigour, his religious feelings were at times truly desirable. His 
intellectual powers were indeed too far weakened for joy; but there was 
a resignation, a tranquillity, a ripeness of grace, a calm and holy repose on 
the bosom of the Saviour, that quite alarmed, if I may so speak, his 
anxious family, under the impression that there appeared nothing left for 
grace to do, and that he would soon be removed from them, as a shock of 
mm cometh in its season. Even when his disease had made still further 
progress, as often as the slightest alleviation w r as afforded him, his judg- 
ment became more distinct, his morbid depression lessened, and he was 
moderately composed. It was only a few weeks before his dissolution 
that such an interval was vouchsafed to him. He then spake with great 
feeling from the Scriptures, in family worship, for about half an hour ; and 
dwelt on the love, and grace, and power of Christ with particular com- 
posure of mind. I had the happiness of visiting him at this season. He 
was so much relieved from his disease, as to enter with me on general 
topjcs relating to religion, and to give me some excellent directions as to my 
conduct as a mipister. In reply to various questions which I put to him, 
he spake to me to the following purport; < I know myself to be a wretched, 
worthless sinner' (the seriousness and feeling with which he spake I shall 
never forget,) ' having nothing in myself but poverty and sin. I know 
Jesus Christ to be a glorious and almighty Saviour. I see the full efficacy 



53 



MEMOIR OF THE 



subordination and submission. Sometimes, when 
speaking of his continual need of unabating admi- 
nistration, and the consequent demands upon my 
health and spirits, he would say, looking at me 
with tender affection, " I earnestly wish that I 
could reward your labours by leaving you an inde- 
pendency'' — but would add, with a firm faith on 
divine providence " I doubt not but that you and 
your children will be provided for after my decease. 
— I can only look to that God who has so gra- 
ciously taken care of, and provided for me, who 
entered upon the world without any possessions." 

His evangelical views became more and more 
vivid latterly. He read such authors only, as 
treated these views most simply. Archbishop 
Leightons Sermons afforded him a continual 
source of satisfaction. He read them perpetually ; 
and particularly his Sermon on 1 Cor. i. 30 — that 
on Cant. i. 3— and two on Rom. viii. 33, 34. He 
said to me and others, that he earnestly wished all 
his own writings had been of this description ; and 
that his Address added to the Life of Mr. Newton, 

of his atonement and grace; and I cast myself entirely on him, and wait 
at his footstool. I am aware that my diseased and broken mind makes me 
incapable of receiving consolation ; but I submit myself wholly to the 
merciful and wise dispensations of God.' 

'* One or two other interesting testimonies, of the spiritual and devoted 
state of his heart may be here mentioned. A short time before his decease, 
he requested one of his family to write down for him in a book the follow- 
ing sentence : 1 None but Christ, none but Christ, said Lambert dying at 
a stake : the same, in dying circumstances, with his whole heart, saith 
Richard Cecil.' The name was signed by himself, with bis left hand, in a 
manner hardly legible through infirmity." 



REV. RICHARD CECIL. 



59 



could be exchanged for an abridgment of the 
Sermon on 1 Cor. i. 30, as infinitely more in- 
teresting. 

It cannot be supposed that I mention this, as 
though any thing in that Address were defective, 
(for whoever can read that Address without 
emotion or without a tear, has a proof in his own 
breast, that he has little experience or a hard 
heart) but, rather to shew his humility ; and, also, 
how he esteemed every thing as dross, compared 
with that one object which led him so often to 
repeat, with the martyr Lambert, " None but 
Christ!— None but Christ ! "—While his fatal ma- 
lady had much impaired his natural powers, and 
contracted his former grasp of thought, he retained, 
like the blessed Apostle John, one faculty in per- 
fection, that of an adherence of heart to the bosom 
of his Saviour, with that true contrition of spirit 
described in that Address, and which the High 
and Lofty One regards with delight in his children. 

Mr. Cecil's disease tended to produce frequent 
irritation : the impulse was sudden, and irresistible ; 
but these irritations were so insignificant in their 
consequences, that the chief pain produced by 
them arose from observing his own poignant feel- 
ings on such occasions. He would recur, in a 
moment, to his principles: and would express, 
in the strongest terms, his detestation and self- 
abasement ; intreating forgiveness, forbearance, and 
patience. Indeed, it excited exquisite pain, and 



60 



MEMOIR OF THE 



often surprise, in the minds of those around, to 
remark, that the slightest instances of these irrita- 
tions never failed to produce the strongest expres-. 
sions of humiliation : he continually brought to my 
recollection the words of the Prophet, Thou hast 
laid thy body as the ground; and as the street, to 
them that ivent over. 

One evening after reading his Bible for some 
hours, he said to me " I derive my whole consola- 
tion from meditating on the Godhead and character 
of Jesus, in whom I place all my hope! Him, hath 
God exalted ivith his right-hand, to be a Prince 
and a Saviour ; for to give repentance to Israel 
and forgiveness of sins*' 

His habit of reading remained with him to his 
last hours. He was wholly engaged in reading 
the choicest parts of such authors as Leighton, 
Trail, Boston, and Gurnall. This last he was 
reading at the moment when the apoplectic seizure 
took place. JBlessed is that servant, whom his 
Lord, ichen he cometh shall find so doing! Luke 
xii. 43. — He read Gurnalls " Christian Armour" 
without intermission, during the last four days of 
his life; and expressed his having been much 
helped and benefited by that writer. 

Notwithstanding the deep inroad which disease 
had made on his intellectual powers, whereby his 
enjoyment was eclipsed and his comfort over- 
shadowed, yet I had the satisfaction of observing 
(as had some of those friends who had access to 



REV. RICHARD CECIL. 



61 



him) that, through all impediments, his real ripen- 
ing for glory was manifest, as he travelled nearer 
and nearer to the grave — in his childlike simpli- 
city — his humility, self-abasement, and increasing 
estimation of his adorable Lord and Saviour Jesus 
Christ. 

Though, as I h&ve before remarked, his mind 
was often bowed down by the fatal paralysis which 
put an end to his labours, yet he retained to the 
last something of his ministerial spirit; and, in a 
lucid moment, often spoke of preaching again, 
saying, " Should it please God ever to raise me 
up to preach again, Christ would be my only 
subject!" On this Rock of Ages he had, by divine 
help, built for eternity — a building, which the 
winds of adversity could not shake. His place of 
defence, and his treasure was on high ; and where 
his treasure was, there was his heart also; and, 
though called to wade through a dark dispensa- 
tion, yet his long and gracious habit, (which never 
left him) of turning to his Heavenly Father, re- 
mained as the evening time light, till he was ad- 
mitted to a mansion where there is night no more. 

In conversation with a friend and minister, he 
said, " In your preaching hold up Christ. This 
should be your great object and aim in your Ser- 
mons. Some have objected, that I have preached 
too much on Faith ; but, were I to preach again, 
they would hear much more of it." 

But he had finished his public course, and was 



62 



MEMOIR OF THE 



no more able to resume his ministry. He had 
another, and a very different lesson to learn in 
the school of Christ. After having exhibited the 
Saviour with fervour and faithfulness in public, he 
was taken aside into a sick chamber— there to be 
more emphatically taught, what he had declared 
to others, that none but Christ could meet the 
wants of a dying sinner. From this chamber and 
this dispensation, he did indeed preach again, and 
aloud, to the heart, on that important warning 
of our Lord — be ye also ready. Nor did his 
faith fail him here, but remained firm, while every 
thing else was shaken: nor did I ever, at any 
time, hear him declare his faith with more stedfast- 
ness, than in the days of his affliction. It was a 
ground of much comfort to me to observe, that at 
no period during this visitation — even when disease 
made the deepest inroad on his health and faculties, 
and Satan's temptations harassed his enfeebled 
mind— did his object vary, but remained one 
and the same with that in the days of his health — 
" Christ crucified, for the chief of sinners!" — the 
only point worthy the contemplation of a mortal 
hastening into the eternal world ! 

The total loss of the use of his right-hand pre- 
vented his putting on paper many things interest- 
ing and highly instructive: this he often lamented; 
Avhile the agitation of his nerves rendered it im- 
practicable to be done by others. I have, with 
mournful pleasure, discovered passages in his Bible, 



REV. RICHARD CECIL. 



63 



evidently marked since his diseased state, to 
which he has with a trembling left-hand put his 
initials " R. C. Amen!" testifying his hope and 
confidence in the all-sufficiency and atoning merit 
of his Saviour. 1 Cor. xvi. 22. — Rev. v. 12. 

A short time before his decease, on hearing the 
2d chapter of Jonah read at family worship, he 
was much impressed by it, and gathered from it 
great consolation. He spoke on it for a consider- 
able time ; and, the next day, desired me to read 
the Book of Jonah through to him : after which he 
made many beautiful observations —and remarked 
how it extended to every possible case — and 
afforded unlimited hope, and furnished a perfect 
antidote to despondency— with many other obser- 
vations, which have escaped my memory. I must 
ever regret, that the nature of my employment in 
attending him prevented the possibility of my 
securing on paper many of his valuable conversa- 
tions, at those intervals when a ray of divine 
consolation broke through the cloudy and dark 
day of disease. 

It has been before remarked that Mr. Cecils 
views became more and more simply evangelical, 
particularly during the days of his affliction. In 
this school he had long been taught : high lessons 
were here put before him ; and, in his own words 
in his " Visit to the House of Mourning," I may 
say of him — " The great Husbandman will not 
fail to adopt the sharpest means for the improve- 



MEMOIR OF THE 



ment of his choicest plants:" and, again, from 
his favourite Leighton— " The Church is God's 
jewelry — his working-house, where his jewels are 
polished for his palace; and those he especially 
esteems and means to make most resplendent, he 
hath oftenest his tools upon them." — Thus the 
ever-dear departed passed through many tribula- 
tions ; and, as the Apostle speaks, filled up that 
ivhich is behind of the afflictions of Christ in his 
flesh, for his bodfs sake, ivhich is the Church " 
Thus was he conformed to his Saviour — and thus 
he trod the highway of the cross to the kingdom, 
there to receive a crown of life, ivhich the Lord, 
the righteous judge, will give. 

While it was a most melancholy post of 
observation to mark the daily progress and depre- 
dations made on such a mind by disease ; and while 
his shattered state could not but lead me often to 
exclaim with the Prophet How are the mighty 
fallen ! — yet it was a scene replete with important 
instruction. I have been deeply impressed on 
remarking, how he bowed to his dispensation — 
how submissively he passed through the valley of 
humiliation; and shone resplendent, even in the 
ruins of nature. Endless, indeed, would be the 
instances of dignity and beauty which might be 
exhibited of this rich and honoured character, 
were I to retrace the space of near thirty years — 
privileged with such a guide, companion, and 
friend! — but my health and spirits fail me, and 



REV. RICHARD CECIL. 



65 



only admit me mournfully to complain, with the 
Prophet, " My father!"—" My father!' - ashamed 
and confounded while I meditate on my own un- 
worthiness, and the little improvement of so great 
a talent! 

I cannot but remark that Mr. C. possessed 
opposite points of excellence beyond most men. 
While he was generous and liberal to others, I 
have known him much wanting to himself. He 
has often, after walking in great pain and fatigue, 
come into his house faint and exhausted, rather 
than allow himself the accommodation of a coach ; 
and, when I have remonstrated with him upon 
it, he would reply — " You know I have great 
demands, and enough to do to meet them." Not 
that he did not see the mistake, when too late to 
remedy it; and, had it been for myself or a child, 
he would have lost sight of the expence, and 
regarded only our relief: nay, perhaps the very 
next hour his compassion to others would lead him 
to give to a poor distressed object at his door. Here 
was high principle, — humanity, and self-denial. 
He was neither extravagant nor penurious; but 
endeavoured wisely to steer between both these 
extremes. He was abstemious to an unusual 
extent. 

It has been remarked by some, that it was a 
defect in Mr. Cecil, that he did not lay by some- 
thing for his family. This objection could only 
arise in the mind of those, who were not acquainted 

+ F 



66 



MEMOIR OF THE 



with his circumstances; and from a mistaking 
view of his affairs: the error of which would 
evidently appear, on a full investigation of both. 
But it is not my intention to enter into these 
particulars. The man, who felt it a duty to forego 
taking a coach, that he might not add .to the 
common demands of his family, sufficiently proves 
that he had nothing to lay by. Yet I do not 
speak in respect of want: that God, whom he 
served in his spirit, did not leave him to want ; but 
rather taught him to live by the day in dependance 
on his gracious providence, which often appeared 
conspicuous, by timely interferences and most 
unexpected helps, when he has been reduced to 
his last resource, and perfectly ignorant by what 
means he could possibly meet the next demand ; 
and he had serious and delicate objections to bor- 
rowing — but, in the mount of the Lord, his arm has 
been seen. 

Indeed if any objections may have been formed 
to any part of Mr. Cecil's conduct, I must be per- 
mitted to believe, that they arise only from a par- 
tial knowledge: but, should they, in any case, 
originate in a want of liberality and charity, I 
would say, — " Restrain reflection. Go thou, and 
do like him. Go, like him, and mourn over defects 
in secret. Go, like him, and pray against them in 
the closet. Go, like him, and correct, and bring 
them into subjection. Go, like him, and keep 
under thy body, thy thoughts, and thy tongue." 



REV. RICHARD CECIL. 



67 



It has been well remarked by an old writer — p 
" That nothing softeneth the arrogance of our 
nature, like a mixture of some frailties. It is by 
them, we are told, that we must not strike too hard 
on others, because we ourselves do so often deserve 
blows: they pull our rage by the sleeve, and 
whisper gentleness to us in our censures, even 
when they are rightly applied." 

May I be allowed to digress for a few moments, 
with remarks not altogether irrelative to this narra- 
tive ; and to explain some points in Mr. Cecil's cha- 
racter and conduct, which have been either little 
understood, or altogether mis-understood. 

It has been conceived by some, that he possessed 
a proud independence of spirit ; which discovered 
itself in the refusal of favours offered by generous 
friends, who not only would gladly have admi- 
nistered to his necessities, but to his comfort. In 
his single state, his necessities were compara* 
tively few : his ardent mind, and his conceptions 
of the ministerial character, naturally led him to 
fall in with the sentiment of the Apostle — Willing 
to endure hardship, as a good soldier of Jesus Christ. 

It is to be considered, that, not only when a 
single man, but at all times, his whole soul was 
under the influence of a sacred dedication to the 
grand object which he had in view. He was 
naturally intrepid, and did not appear to possess 
with men in common the fears and anxieties at- 
tending poverty. There was nothing, which he 

F 2 



68 



MEMOIR OF THE 



would not have made a willing sacrifice to his 
grand object— the Church; with a firm determina- 
tion to avoid all impediments in the way of his 
reproving and exhorting with all authority, in the 
midst of a corrupt generation — striving to become 
a light, and not a stumbling-block among 
them. He was, therefore, while gratefully alive to 
favour and friendship, not to be fettered by any 
— not to be shackled by obligations to the 
creature, so as to endanger his faithfulness : 
but, with a dignified and christianized inde- 
pendence, he pursued his course, unconcerned as 
to what might befal him in the way. Thus he 
recommended himself to every man's conscience ; 
and proved the reality of his faith, and the integ- 
rity of his heart. 

With respect to offered favours, he was much in- 
fluenced by time — manner — and circumstan- 
ces. If he could trace them as arising from any 
intimations from himself, however accidentally 
brought out, he felt a noble, as well as delicate 
recoiling : or, if the persons giving were not in 
easy circumstances, his benevolence of heart re- 
volted at availing himself of their liberality ; and, 
on such occasions, he has refused favours, though 
most kindly offered. On the other hand, where 
any thing appeared to him to come in the course 
of providence, and he had sufficient evidence of 
this, no man more humbly or more willingly ac- 
cepted whatever was presented to him. For the 



REV. RICHARD CECIL. 09 

smallest gift, he has expressed the greatest satis- 
faction ; and always felt particular pleasure in any 
thing however small, being presented to him as 
a token of affection. It was under these impres- 
sions that he said, with reference to his accepting 
a benefit of considerable magnitude afforded him 
by a friend— ' ' I quiet myself with thinking, it 
pleases God to quarter me upon helps out of my- 
self, to make me feel my utter dependence." It 
may, indeed, easily be conceived, that a man so 
justly beloved, and with so many friends, might 
have enriched himself, had not some higher prin- 
ciple guided his conduct. 

Duty varies with circumstances. Whatever Mr. 
C. perceived to be a duty, he never asked a 
question upon. When it pleased God rapidly to 
encrease his family, and thereby his expenses, he 
readily and thankfully received whatever Provi- 
dence was pleased to send ; and considered it as 
granted for the express purpose of supplying his 
need:— that being evident he refused no assis- 
tance, where he did not see some clear and delicate 
reason, why it was improper, all things considered, 
to do otherwise. Herein appeared not only his 
integrity and his faith, but his submission to the 
will of that God whom he served in his spirit, thus 
made known to him : he used cheerfully to say, 
on a child being added to his family, " I now ex- 
pect an addition to my income, though I know not 
from what quarter." In the year 1781, he had 



70 



MEMOIR OF THE 



married one of his parishioners from Lewes, by 
whom he had eleven children, six of which are 
living. 

While Mr. C. cautiously avoided the error of 
enthusiasm, he possessed a faith as simple as it was 
energetic ; and, though he was often in straits, he 
felt at such times something like a man who has 
little or nothing in his purse, yet is not anxiously 
careful, knowing that he has at his banker's suffi- 
cient for all his wants. The truth is, as a minister 
of Jesus Christ he aimed, in all situations, to walk 
at liberty —worthy his high calling. Though the 
principles which actuated his conduct might not 
appear to the superficial observer, yet they were 
not the less real and evident to those who knew 
him intimately, and could trace the purity of his 
motives. 

Mr. Cecil's natural perceptions were quick, and 
his feelings exquisite. He was most sensibly alive 
to kindness or unkindness. I have often, long af- 
terward, discovered with astonishment, his having 
keenly felt the one or the other, when, at the 
moment, I had no perception of it ; as his cast of 
character led him to think, rather than speak, 
under such impressions. Indeed his feelings were 
too acute for his comfort ; and his views of recti- 
tude were so high, that they opened perpetual 
avenues to pain : but this tended to keep his mind 
more stedfastly fixed on that world, where disorder 
or deformity have no place — He often quoted the 



REV. RICHARD CECIL. 



71 



words of Hooker on his death-bed, who exulted 
in the prospect of entering a world of order. 

I cannot omit observing, that humanity was a 
very striking feature in Mr. Cecil's character, inso- 
much as frequently to produce great pain and self- 
torture. The very contemplation of oppression 
was intolerable to him. To use his own words — 
" There is nothing I abhor like cruelty and op- 
pression. Tenderness and sympathy is not enough 
cultivated by any of us — ' There is no flesh in 
man's obdurate heart!' No one is kind enough — 
gentle enough — forbearing and forgiving enough. 
We find throughout our Lord's history the 
strongest traits of compassion." 

He felt exquisitely where he conceived a wife 
was not treated kindly. He used to say, that so 
much power was lodged in man, and so much 
dependence and helplessnes in a woman, that it 
required a large portion of candour not to believe 
that they must suffer ; especially where grace did 
not come in aid, and regulate the depraved pas- 
sions of mankind. This tender susceptibility was 
delicately, though familiarly expressed by himself, 
some years since, when speaking of the breaking 
down of his tabernacle : — " I don't know," said 
he, " any thing that convinces me of my weak 
state more, than that I cannot now bear to see 
oppression as I formerly could. Though, when 
I had better health and more strength, I equally 
deplored it: yet I was able to view it more 



72 



MEMOIR OF THE 



abstractly, and with more Christian Philosophy ; 
and to leave things, which could not be amended, 
to the great Moral Governor, who is infinite in 
compassion— notices the oppressor and the op- 
pressed — and, in his own time, will both recom- 
pence and deliver : for, Shall not the Judge of all 
the Earth do right ? Still, I sink under the very 
recollection of scenes, which I have witnessed; 
and sometimes lie sleepless all night, from having 
seen an instance of cruelty in the day." 

These interior impressions could never be dis- 
covered in his converse with the world, much less 
from the pulpit — where, like the eagle, he soared 
on high, where the object of his high calling filled 
his whole soul, and wherein his unwearied labours 
tended to wear away that invaluable life, so 
willingly spending and spent in that service. 

He used to speak of himself as being, by nature, 
violently passionate. If it were so, much indeed 
was due to the power and glory of that grace, 
which subdued his passion. Whenever he spoke 
of the defects which he thought peculiar to his 
constitution, which he ever did in the language of 
the Prophet's roll, with lamentation, and mourning, 
and woe — it appeared to me like romance. I 
never could attach reality to such ideas : and, 
indeed, it was difficult to discover what his natural 
defects really were, while they were under per- 
petual chastisement and controul ; insomuch that 
he ever manifested patience, forbearance, and the 



REV. RICHARD CECIL. 



73 



utmost condescension — the most tender sympathy, 
and the most lively affection. Though his aspect 
and manner frequently obscured the real kindness 
of his disposition, and sometimes he might be 
thought like Joseph to speak roughly, of which he 
was not only aware, but deeply lamented it ; yet his 
heart was also like Joseph's, full of love to his 
brethren: and whatever bore a contrary aspect 
may be accounted for, from his abstract habits, a 
love of retirement, a natural quickness of mind, 
and great energy — and not from the absence of 

REAL CHRISTIAN PHILANTHROPY. 

Men have been said to resemble animals. Mr. 
Cecil's resemblance to the Lion — distinguished for 
his majestic aspect — his dignity, generosity, and 
superiority — was conspicuous ! I remember on 
going to the Tower, many years ago, seeing one of 
those magnificent animals, in whose den lived a 
little Dog, who made very free with his superior ; 
and fawned, or barked, or bit, as his humour 
turned. The Lion, instead of resenting either the 
insults or impertinent familiarities received from 
his companion, still retained his own dignity, and 
looked on the conduct of the little cur with 
generosity and complacency : instead of crushing 
him with his paw, he let him bark, or bite, or 
play — because, he was a lion ! I have often re- 
cognized similar conduct in Mr. C. — As the Lion 
among the brute tribes, was my dearest husband 
among men. His dignity, liberality, and self- 



74 



MEMOIR OF THE 



possession, were most evident in all his dealings 
with them. Where he discovered any one in- 
clined to impose on him, he would, with Christian 
forbearance, withdraw; but would studiously 
avoid giving pain by conveying an intimation that 
he perceived the attempt — except where he felt 
himself called to appear as a reprover, and 
then, he spoke most freely and openly. Viewing 
the obliquities of the age, or of individuals, he often 
quoted Jer. xv. 10. Wo is me, my mother, that thou 
hast borne me a man of strife: and would fre- 
quently recur to that remarkable chap. Eze. ii. 
which was the appointed lesson on the day of his 
ordination, as descriptive of his arduous and diffi- 
cult course in his ministry — and which made such 
a strong impression on his mind at the time, that 
it continued with him through life. 

He had learnt from his Divine Master, to unite 
the wisdom of the serpent with the harmlessness 
of the dove ; and when any treated meanly with 
him, he never resented it, but always endeavoured 
to render good for evil. Innumerable instances 
of this kind I could mention, were it necessary or 
proper. He was kind to all. His manly affec- 
tion did not appear in a trifling, frivolous, and 
disgusting form, but in the beauty of reality and 

MEANING. 

Nothing was more striking in his character, 
than his high probity. If he had raised an ex- 
pectation in the mind of any one, no inconvenience 



REV. RICHARD CECIL. 



—no labour — no loss — could lead him to disap- 
point such expectation. This sentiment he urged 
perpetually on the mind of his children ; and la- 
mented that human conduct fell so far below that 
perfect example of our Blessed Saviour, who never 
failed to meet every expectation which he had 
raised in the breast of his creatures. — " This," 
said he, " is the high privilege of Christianity, 
that none, who trust in Him, shall ever be con- 
founded." A perfect description of this part of 
his character may be found in the xvth Psalm: — 
Lord who shall abide in thy tabernacle ? Who shall 
dwell in thy holy hill? — He, that ivalkcth up- 
rightly, and worJceth righteousness, and speaketh 
the truth in his heart. He, that backbiteth not 
with his tongue, nor doeth evil to his neighbour \ 
nor taketh up a reproach against his neighbour. In 
whose eyes a vile person is contemned: but he ho- 
nour eth them that fear the Lord. He, that swear eth 
to his own hurt, and changeth not. He, that 
putteth not out his money to usury, nor taketh re- 
ward against the innocent. He, that doeth these 
things, shall never be moved. 

Among many other instances of his probity, 
one, in his early childhood, is singular. His father 
went on business to the India House, and took 
his son with him : while he was transacting his 
business, his son was dismissed, and directed to 
wait for him at the India House door. His father. 



76 



MEMOIR OF THE 



on finishing his business, went out at another door, 
and entirely forgot that he had ordered his son to 
wait for him. In the evening, his mother, missing 
the child, enquired where he was : on which his 
father, recollecting his directions, said, " You may 
depend on it, he is still waiting where I appointed 
him." He immediately returned to the India 
House, and found him on the spot where he had 
been ordered to wait. He knew that his father 
expected him to wait, — and probity kept him 
from disappointing expectation. 

At no period of Mr. Cecil's life, even at the 
worst of times, did he ever cease to regulate his 
actions by a principle of honour. The strong and 
active mind which he possessed, when a child, put 
him on many projects, which made great demands 
on his pocket-money ; and, had not a principle of 
integrity restrained him, he might have supplied 
himself from his father's bureau, which he saw left 
open day after day, with considerable sums of 
money, which his father was in the habit of throw- 
ing into it without taking account of it : — While 
his son knew that any being taken from it would 
never have been discovered, he felt a horror at 
the thought of availing himself of the smallest sum, 
although opportunity and necessity were so com- 
bined to form a temptation to so young a subject. 
It was a great preservation to Mr. C. that while 
he was under the " reign of sin," he had an utter 



REV. RICHARD CECIL. 



77 



detestation of the leading vices so incident to 
youth: — He equally abhorred the character of the 
liar, the drunkard, and the epicure. 

But I will not detain the reader by enumerating 
facts, I am aware that persons, not fully com- 
prehending Mr. Cecil's character for want of more 
interior knowledge of it and opportunity of closer 
observation, may think that I am influenced by 
partiality. I can only leave such persons to 
think— while I remain to know, that, as was 
said by the Queen of Sheba, The half is not told. 
Not that I mean to convey an idea of a perfect 
character, while I slightly glance at qualities little 
known, in one who stood so high in attainment, as 
a Man and a Christian, yet was so practically pe- 
netrated with a sense of his own deficiences, and 
so humbled by this view — and where any thing, 
which he had said or done, could give pain to 
others, so anxious to render sevenfold back; — -so 
that I wish for no higher pedestal upon which to 
exhibit his excellencies, than those things which 
he viewed as his defects. The defects of a hus- 
band, however, where they do exist, it becomes 
not a wife to discuss, even where they are obvious 
to herself and others. 

I have said, that, in any case, where Mr. C. had 
caused pain, he was anxious to render back. He 
had said or done something which he perceived 
had grieved me : which, however, was so inconsi- 
derable an act, that I have not the least remaining 



78 



MEMOIR OF THE 



recollection of what it was. On walking out the 
same day with his son, then a child, he stopped 
to buy an article which he conceived I should 
like. After he had made the purchase, his son 
said to him, " What do you buy it for, Papa?" He 
replied, " My dear, I grieved your Mamma to- 
day, and I want to give this to her in token of my 
concern and affection." 

Mr. Cecil spent almost the whole of his time in 
his study, and was tenacious of being interrupted 
in his pursuits : yet there was not one in his family* 
even the youngest, but had a free (if timely) access 
to him: on presenting any little wants or mis- 
fortunes before him, he would regard them 
with attention; and, with the most generous 
kindness, render little offices of reparation, or 
accommodation. 

This temper of mind pervaded all his domestic 
conduct. I can scarcely open a book, if given by 
him, but it exhihits an instance, either of his ten- 
derness, his delicate sentiment, or pious admoni- 
tion. The reader will better conceive than I can 
describe, with what various emotions of heart I 
now read one of these — which was written on a 
blank leaf in his " Visit to the House of Mourn- 
ing," previous to his giving it to me : — " The 
Author presents a token of his affection to one* 
who in the 49th page, has (without a name) a pre- 
eminence of place Earnestly praying, that, 

whenever lie must quit her hand, he may yet 



REV. RICHARD CECIL. 



79 



watch her solitary steps ; and sometimes silently 
administer to the safety and comfort of the beloved 
pilgrim, by a hint from this little monitor." 

Very many similar and endearing instances of 
his kindness might be inserted, were it not that 
they would lead me to speak too much of myself: 
they remain, therefore, more properly the subject 
of my own solitary recollection — the tender re- 
membrancers of a long affection — and to heighten 
the standard by which I estimate my sad bereave- 
ment. If I further refer to Mr. C. as a husband, 
it shall be by shewing his picture drawn by him- 
self in a series of letters, wherein appears the fa- 
miliar and affectionate, no less than the melan- 
cholic and reflective turn of Mr. C's mind- 
though, in so doing, I must sacrifice that delicacy, 
which as being the subject of his correspondence, 
would lead me to withdraw* 

If I speak of the dear subject of this Memoir as 
a Parent, it shall be in his own words, dictated 
by him in his last hours, and addressed to his son 
in the East: which contain, in a few lines, the 
essence of the Gospel ; and discover a parental 
solicitude, that his son might become a partaker 
in the great salvation : — 

MY DEAR SON : *j June, 1810. 

" I have received your letters, and they would 
have been duly answered; but for the last two 

* his Letters annexed to this Memoir, 



80 



MEMOIR OF THE 



years, a severe illness, has so occupied both your 
mother and me, that we have had no opportunity. 
I am only able now, in a dying state, to send my 
blessing, and prayers for your welfare, I wish to 
say that Christ is your all, in time and eternity. 
I have been in a most affecting state by a paraly- 
tic stroke — but Christ is all that can profit you or 
me — a whole volume could not contain more, or 
so much. Oh pray day and night for an interest 
in Him ! — and this is all I can say — it being more 
than having the Indies." 

Mr. Cecils solicitude for the welfare of his chil- 
dren, in all their various interests, was entire, 
anxious, and unabating. He excited them, by 
precept and by example ; and encouraged the 
smallest indications, of virtue or piety, which he 
observed in them — holding up religion to their 
view, not only as excellent in itself, but as highly 
ornamental. 

No parent could be more benevolent toward 
his family, according to his power. — He endea- 
voured to supply what might be wanting in ac- 
complishment, as it is generally understood, by 
storing their minds with a rich fund of moral 
reflections : and, in this view, they have received 
a high education ; for as he used to remark, " Mere 
accomplishment is but a temporary possession; 
while one maxim of moral wisdom, received, 
and brought into practice, goes forth and 



REV. RICHARD CECIL. 



81 



travels with us through eternity." He frequently 
said he would have spent largely on the education 
of each of his children had he been able. He gave 
his sons this advantage: and he did this on prin- 
ciple, knowing that it was all that he could give 
them ; and, Avith this, he knew they might make 
their way through life respectably. 

He ever laboured to impress on all his children 
the advantage of industry and effort ; of which he 
was himself their example. He would say — " Do 
something — have a profession — be eminent 

in it— MAKE YOURSELVES INDEPENDENT." Hints 

of this kind, were interspersed among a variety of 
other useful and invaluable instruction to his chil- 
dren ; and, in proportion to their high privilege, is 
their irreparable loss, that such a parent was re- 
moved before they could be launched on the 
dangerous ocean of the world: — the thought of 
which, were he still a subject susceptible of pain, 
would hold a place among the tenderest of his 
sorrows. For although he rejoiced in those pro- 
mises on which his faith built, as appropriate to a 
necessarily dependent family, yet he could not 
rejoice in their becoming dependent. He was 
neither indifferent to their welfare, nor improvident 
respecting their future wants — but, he lacked op- 
portunity. 

He anxiously aimed to convince his children of 
the emptiness of the things of time. Anecdotes, 
enquiries, or sentiments, brought forward by them 

t G 



82 



MEMOIR OF THE 



in the course of conversation, afforded him matter; 
and, on these occasions, his children were equally 
delighted and instructed; for his lively genius 
and fertile imagination illuminated the whole con- 
versation. Daily occurrences — public facts — or 
public sentiments, were opportunities of which he 
availed himself, to inculcate on their minds im- 
portant truths : they drew from him reflections 
and maxims — at once familiar, natural, and in- 
teresting. His high attainment in the just estima- 
tion of whatever relates to this life only, ena- 
bled him to speak as one who felt what he 
asserted ; and to place his sentiments before them 
in a manner so vivid, that, with the sentiments, he 
he also communicated a perception of the futi- 
lity of all temporal things, however splendid. He 
spake of them as 44 baubles for the children of this 
world" — 44 A lying, dying, pageant, which passeth 
away as a dream." 

Mr. C. may have been censured for not letting 
his children mix more with society: but he used 
to say 44 Purity of character is to be preferred to 
accomplishment;" and he was aware of snares and 
traps into which young minds might fall. If, 
however, mixed society was any loss, that loss 
was amply compensated by his own, which was 
always interesting and enriching. His readiness 
to gratify innocent requests was ever alive. Many 
instances might be recorded, but one shall suffice. 
On his daughter s asking him, just as he was going 



REV. RICHARD CECIL. 



83 



out into company, to give her words to a tune 
which she had composed, he did not disregard or 
forget her request ; but, while general conversa- 
tion was proceeding, he wrote unobserved a few 
verses which he presented to her on his return. 

He used to remark, that a father was not less 
affectionately mindful of his children, while toiling 
abroad for them ; than the mother, who was fond- 
ling them at home. His feelings toward his own 
children were roused, whenever he heard the cries 
of any of them ; which the discipline and regula- 
tions of a young family, with depraved passions, 
will inevitably sometimes produce. Speaking on 
such occurrences afterward, he would say, " I 
perceive, that, if it should please God to remove 
the mother, my children must be ruined; for I 
find, that I could give no one but a mother 
credit sufficient to maintain proper authority. I 
can scarcely bear to sit still in my study, and 
hear them cry out under chastisement even now, 
without rising to make enquiry : but I say to my- 
self 6 It is the mother !' and I am quieted." Not 
that he was wanting or remiss in reproof, where 
he saw it needful : on the contrary, he highly dis- 
approved the manner of some parents, whose re- 
proof extends only to — Nay! my sons — where 
there ought to be firmness and decision. Yet he 
possessed also the opposite point of tenderness, 
in a high degree: and his delicate apprehensions 
will appear in a few verses which he wrote, and 



84 



MEMOIR OF THE 



gave to me with a view to divert and sooth my 
sorrow, on a child, only one month old, being re- 
moved at day-break ; whose countenance, at the 
time of departure, was most heavenly : — 

Let me go : for the day hreaketh, 

41 Cease here longer to detain me, 

Fondest Mother drown'd in woe : 
Now thy kind caresses pain me, 
n Morn advances — Let me go. 

u See yon orient streak appearing! 

Harbinger of endless day : 
Hark ! a voice the darkness chearing, 

Calls my new-born soul away ! 

" Lately launched a trembling Stranger, 

On the world's wild boisterous flood, 
Pierc'd with sorrows, toss'd with danger, 

Gladly I return to God. 

" Now my cries shall cease to grieve thee, 

Now my trembling heart find rest : 
Kinder arms than thine receive me, 

Softer pillow than thy breast. 

" Weep not o'er these eyes that languish, 

Upward turning t'ward their Home : 
Raptur'd they'll forget all anguish, 

While they wait to see thee come. 

" There, my Mother, pleasures centre, — 

—Weeping, Parting, Care, or Woe 
Ne'er our Father's House shall enter— 

—Morn advances— Let me go.— 

*' As through this calm, holy dawning 

Silent glides my parting breath, 
To an everlasting Morning,-- 

Gently close my eyes in death. 

" Blessings endless, richest blessings, 

Pour their streams upon thy heart ! 
(Though no language yet possessing) 

Breathes my Spirit e'er we part. 



REV. RICHARD CECIL. 



85 



tc Yet to leave thee sorrowing rends me, 

Though again his voice I hear : 
Rise ! May every grace attend thee 

Rise ! and seek to meet me there." 

( This memorial, however, differs materially from 
that found in Mr. Cecil's " Visit to the House of 
Mourning." In that stroke, the heart is seen not 
only wounded, but bleeding — while the knife cuts 
deep. There is seen, the struggle of a pious heart 
with the ties of nature. There is seen, submis- 
sion to divine wisdom, and a steady and over- 
coming faith. Nor can I ever lose sight of that 
flood of tears which then poured from his eyes, 
when reluctant nature was constrained to resign a 
beloved child to the cold arms of death ; and to 
that world, where he now beholds her, and 
needs no longer, as he then expressed, to " Wish 
to leave the world, and go to his Father, that he 
might enquire into the whole of the case — the 
reasons — the steps — the issue — Here again the 
Gardener is seen, " cutting the pomegranate tree 
almost through." — # 

On a leaf in an old Common-Place Book, I 
lately found the following passage; which I in- 
sert, as being in harmony with the above. 

" Blessed God ! how does nature cleave to a 
family! How shall I leave them destitute — in 
weakness — in sin — and in the world ! Blessed be 
thy name, * Thou hast overcome the sharpness of 



* See these Memoirs, page 9. 
G3 



86 



MEMOIR OF THE 



death, and opened the kingdom of heaven to all 
believers.' — There shall I find all that I wish to 
find — My wife, if thine, in perfect love insepara- 
bly united — My children, if thine, without cause 
of anger or grief — My children that are now thine. 
Our views — joys — and praises — object and state, 
eternally the same ! — Our sins, sorrows, and sigh- 
ing for ever fled away !" 

In our family worship the Scripture was read, 
in course, by one of his children. While the pas- 
sage was reading, he frequently interspersed short, 
pithy, and instructive remarks, in the most easy 
and familiar manner. Of his prayers, I can only 
say, that I never did, nor do I ever expect, to 
hear, any like them, in simplicity, unction, and 
devotion — and in that filial fear x affection, and re- 
verence, which bespoke much of that nearness 
and close friendship with his God and Saviour, 
which he so often expressed and so variously ex- 
emplified as the high privilege of a Christian. 
While his prayers comprehended much, both in 
their matter and manner, yet they were always 
short. He aimed to make his family worship 
useful, without becoming irksome. Latterly they 
were often alarming, as well as edifying to my 
own heart, while I discerned him rapidly matur- 
ing for that world, where prayer is exchanged for 
endless praise. 

There — as described in a consolatory letter 
from a friend after Mr. Cecil's removal — we con- 



REV. RICHARD CECIL. 



87 



template him, without gloom — ' ' To him, the 
change was inexpressibly glorious. All his friends 
will truly rejoice, that he was not called longer to 
suffer in a state which could not but be deeply 
affecting to all who remembered his great talents, 
his extensive usefulness, his ardent desire to do 
good, his fervent piety, his stedfast faith, and his 
pure conduct. Indeed he possessed such a com- 
bination of excellent graces, as are very rarely, in- 
deed scarcely ever to be found in one individual. 
They have not, however, perished : they are al- 
ready blooming in another soil; under a genial 
climate, where they will produce fruits which will 
flourish through eternity. How truly will you 
now rejoice in the honourable course which he 
run! The days of his sickness and infirmity, 
blessed be God, are now ever terminated : and he 
is, what he always desired and longed to be — 
wholly devoted to the will of God." 

For him, therefore, we weep not: but for our- 
selves : while we may say of him, as he once said 
in a letter to a friend after burying a pious member 
of his congregation* — * After I had put her into 
the grave, the rest went away. I stood looking 
in : every body had lamented, and said, ' How 
sad!' J, though I cannot now write for tears, 
looked in again — and said " How ivell!" 

* Mrs. Singleton, of Lamb's Conduit Place : whose remains, at the 
request of the family, were deposited in St. John's Chapel, till they coul^ 
be conveniently removed to Ireland. 



88 



MEMOIR OF THE 



Still I contemplate him gone : whither he is 
gone, and to whom — silences nature's perturbed 
spirit — mingles in the bitter dip — and brightens 
the overwhelming gloom; and the assurance of 
that prayer being answered, which he so often 
and so fervently offered up — that when death ap- 
proached he " might have nothing to do but to 
die*' — opens a bright, prospect beyond the grave. 
I sorrow, therefore, with " a sure and certain 
hope :' 3 and, though allowed to mourn, let me not 
faint ; but cultivate the recollection of that gra- 
cious Providence, which so long sheltered a feeble 
plant as in a hot-house— nor let me complain, 
when the same gracious Providence calls me to 
feel the chill of a wintry clime in my latter day — 

" "Yet nature may have leave to speak, 

And plead before her God ; 
Lest the o'erburden'd heart should break, 

Beneath its heavy load." 

Conscious that any attempt at describing the 
excellent qualities which my beloved and ho- 
noured husband possessed, seems rather to lessen 
than to display them — yet, as we fondly indulge 
in speaking of what we love, I venture on the 
candor of his friends, while thus bearing my testi- 
mony, however feeble, to a memory so dear : not 
without being fully aware, that whatever falls 
from so inadequate a pen, must, like the picture 
of a consummate beauty, sink far below the origi- 
nal — but, if one — who shared so large, so long, 



» 



REV. RICHARD CECIL. 89 

and so pure a portion of his affection, should be 
silent, The very stones would cry out of the wall, 
and the beams out of the timber would answer. 
Few, I believe, will be found forming objections 
to Mr. Cecil's character: while many will join me 
in believing, that no one was more justly beloved, 
than he who is the subject which has so long 
detained me in this splendid field of riches and 
beauty. 

It is frequently remarked, that biographers have 
so much recourse to panegyric, that it is often dif- 
ficult to obtain an impartial view of the character 
described. A just statement of facts has in this 
Memoir superseded panegyric. I appeal to those 
who knew Mr. C. intimately : Do these papers 
contain panegyric ? Do they not contain a simple 
statement of facts? — a simple description of a 
character affording a high example ? What disin- 
terested generosity and liberality — yet how pro- 
vident! What zeal and energy — yet how truly 
affectionate ! How alive to evil — yet most forgiv- 
ing and forbearing ! Possessing high attainments 
— yet glorying in nothing, but the cross, by which 
the world was crucified unto him and he unto the 
world! Nor, indeed, has man, as such, anything 
whereof to glory. " God makes men great," Dr. 
Erskine remarks, " by bestowing on them distin- 
guished genius and talents. Some of the courtiers 
of the Emperor Sigismund, who had no taste for 
learning, enquired why he so honoured and res- 



90 



MEMOIR OF THE 



pected men of low birth, on account of their 
science. The Emperor replied, ' In one day, I 
can confer knighthood or nobility on many: in 
many years, I cannot bestow genius on one. Wise 
and learned men are created by God only.' No 
advantage of education, no favourable combina- 
tion of circumstances, produce talents, where the 
Father of Spirits dropped not the seeds of them, 
in the souls which he made." 

Were I to dwell on all the subjects which still 
rise before my mind, I should extend this Memoir . 
to an undue length. Indeed, while I have been 
passing from scene to scene and ruminating on the 
past, I seem to have presented but a mere out- 
line, which it is impossible to fill up with the more 
interior, affecting, and interesting shades — 

M How dark, though fleeting, are the days of man ! 

What countless sorrows crowd his narrow span ! 

For what is life ? — A groan, a breath, a sigh, 

A bitter tear, a drop of misery, 

A lamp just dying in sepulchral gloom, 

A voice of anguish from the lonely tomb. 

Or wept or weeping, all the change we know ; 

Tis all our mournful history below. 

Pleasure is grief, but smiling to destroy ; 

And what is sorrow but the ghost of joy?" 

To look backward, is but the retrospect of a 
weary day's journey, or a distempered night's 
dream : to look forward, is to awaken sorrows 
rnone acute — to view a dark prospect and a lonely 
pilgrimage, which nothing can brighten on this 
side the grave, but those hopes which stretch be- 



REV. RICHARD CECIL. 



91 



yond it, and that faith which penetrates the veil 
of time and follows the deceased to his blest 
abode ! 

Having beguiled my sorrows by paying this tri- 
bute to the memory of my beloved husband ; and 
having stated some facts in his history and cha- 
racter, with which none can be so well acquainted 
as myself : and recorded a few singular instances 
of an ever-ruling Providence, with some of the 
exercises and effusions of a gracious heart — during 
a life of labour, pain, and affliction — I now resign 
my pen, and leave to my kind friend, the Editor 
of Mr. Cecil's works, the task of speaking largely 
and justly on his character — while I mournfully 
remain, esteeming it my highest honour, still to 
subscribe myself by his dear, and revered name 



J. CECIL. 



Little James Street, 
May 1st, 1811. 




92 



MEMOIR OF THE 



POSTSCRIPT. 



I beg leave to avail myself of this, as the only 
public opportunity of acknowledging the continued 
remembrance of my dear husband, in a subscrip- 
tion opened by his friends, for the support of his 
family. This answer to his faith in God, and his 
confidence in his friends' kindness, becomes a 
subject of my praise to him, who is the first cause 
of every benefit ; and of my gratitude both to 
Him, and to those who " have been forward" on 
this occasion. 

On the review of my irreparable loss, on the one 
hand, and of my circumstances on the other, I 
was reduced to cast my burden oil Omnipotence, 
in the hope " That the Lord God of Hosts would 
be gracious to the remnant of Joseph" — and I 
may now add, " Blessed be the Lord God of our 
Fathers, which hath put such a thing as this into 
many hearts." 

Though I can render no other recompense than 
a grateful acknowledgment, yet, while passing my 
eye over the record of names, still testifying their 
love to the deceased, it affords me some consola- 
tion to recollect, that there is also another re- 
cord — one on high ; and a time hastening on, 



REV. RICHARD CECIL. 



93 



when those books will be opened, — the contents 
made public to angels and men— and when no in- 
stance of love will either be overlooked or forgot- 
ten — but a full reward be rendered to every one, 
though but for a cup of cold water. In the mean 
while, may the Father of the Fatherless and Judge 
of the Widow render back a present recompence, 
equal to all the kindness for which, under God, I 
am indebted. 

Whatever is cast into this treasury, is placed in 
the hands of trustees: and, whatever be the 
amount, I desire to regard it with thankfulness, 
as a token of the mind and will of the God of my 
husband, respecting those whom — "He has left, 
destitute — in weakness — in sin — and in the world"* 



* See these Memoirs, p. 85. 



LETTERS 

FROM 

MR. CECIL, TO MRS. CECIL. 



LETTER I. 

MY DEAREST LOVE — Bath— 1792; 

I am settled in comfortable lodgings, and not worse than 

when I wrote last ; but I find I must endeavour to keep business 

from my mind, particularly that of which has already filled 

me with anxiety ; but I shall endeavour to believe, rest, and 
pray it away. I know God will do best: but still I cannot 
divest myself of my feelings, which will take some years from 
my life. 

I thank you, my Jewel, for your kindest letter. I had hardly 
time to read it, because the post goes so early from Bath, and 
scarcely gives me time to write : but I shall read it several times 
over ; and I hope profit by what you have written, and which I 
have read with many tears. 

If I find difficulties arise about the waters I shall consult Dr. 
Frazer : for I do not mean to do things by halves. It has cost 
me something more than money to come hither ; and I would 
have all the benefit. 

There is not any thing under the sky I could so well spare as 
company just now. I am not able to bear any. There is no- 
body on earth, in my present circumstances, who would not be 
a burden to me — except yourself. Travelling, no doubt, would 
be of use to my health ; and I could very pleasantly rove about 
the country for a time, had I one person, now in London, 



96 



LETTERS FROM MR. CECIL TO MRS. CECIL. 



with me But I must not continue this strain, though I could 

fill a sheet or two with such things very spontaneously : for I 
assure you 'tis not difficult to me to write love letters to you; 
But I think, on many accounts, it is better to know such things 
exist, and offer themselves without force, than to let them run 
till nobody knows where they may stop. 

Ah! my precious Jewel, wives and husbands wont do alone. 
Let us rightly understand the difference between passion and 
substance; but substance is not here! " He builds too low, 
who builds below the skies !" 

Farewell ! and believe me, notwithstanding these truths, to be 

Yours most affectionately, 

B.C. 



LETTER II. 

Bath— 1792. 

I said just now, to a young Clergyman who boards in the house, 

" Ah ! Mr. I am going to enjoy a satisfaction you are sadly 

deprived of— I am going to write to my wife" — 

I preached some time ago a sermon at St. John's which I am 
now forced to recollect for myself—/ will bring her into the 
wilderness. I am now clearly under a peculiar dispensation 
—like what I then described the wilderness to be. So painful 
has my stomach been of late, that I thought it my duty to go 
under the care of Dr. Frazer. He has put me into the bath, and 
directed the hot-pump to be applied to the pit of my stomach, 
which is the only thing I have found of service yet. 

But this is also a spiritual case, which no man can understand 
for me, but which I think I understand. I am going down the 
valley of humiliation, where the Christian's feet are apt to stumble : 
but I have not lost my way. I know where i am ; and I 
know God is with me. So the valley is not so dark as it 
might be. I could fill twenty letters with reflections like these, 
but I fear lest I should hurt your feelings by them ; and, there- 
fore, I will stop. 



LETTERS FROM MR. CECIL TO MRS. CECIL. 97 

I told Dr. F. my history— how I lived— studied— preached— 
my anxieties — incessant thoughtfulness, &c. In short, that he 
might not be deceived and thereby mislead me, I gave him the 
most faithful account of myself. He has however deeply 
convinced me, that I must lead another life in future ; which> 
on every account, I find it my bounden duty to do, if it please 
God to recover me, for I do not expect many more warnings. 
Moreover, I am so sincere (at least under my burden) that I do 
hereby empower you to watch over me, and to keep me to my 
most decided and determined principles : for if I recover 
here, I am persuaded if I do not alter many things, I shall soon 
be as bad, and probably worse than ever. 

My Dearest Creature, I ought to say MANY kind things 
to you ; but my spirits are too weak and low now, to say any- 
thing that is not very general. Be assured, however, that you 
are almost the only temporal subject I think of (though I think 
of that very often.) Worldly matters I have thought very little 
of indeed: which I esteem a mercy, mixed with my difficulties. 
I mean to strive very much to keep them more out of my mind, 
on my return, than I have done — and take you more into their 
place. The arrangements you are making, you will find difficult : 
moreover I am afraid you will hurt yourself in this affair, and 
then what good will my room do me 1 At any rate, you must 
not attempt it yourself. It does not signify : nothing of the sort 
signifies. 

I have no prospect of going round by — — on my return. All 
undertakings to a sick man are dreadful in contemplation. At 
present, my highest earthly project and prospect, is to sit 
quietly down with you in some little country retirement: and 
yet I know so much of myself, that take away my present pain 
and weakness, and my old spirit would return ; and I should be 
driving after my point as usual. But Now — it is quiet — ease — 
and my wife! 

If I do not gain wisdom by this business, the fool has been 
brayed in a mortar, but it is clear nothing will drive his foolish- 
ness from him. 

t H 



9* 



LETTERS FROM MR. CECIL TO MRS. CECIL. 



While I am so poorly, and in this tender state, I shall write to 
you every day, because I should expect it of you, and it will be 
a satisfaction to you ; but then I cannot undertake to write so 
long a letter as this is, which I began for my own satisfaction as 
well as yours. I set out with saying that I am in a wilderness ; 
but it is said in the passage, / will speak comfortably to her, and 
give her vineyards from thence. Now you must join with me in 
praying that this may be my case. I cannot question your af- 
fection for me ; but this will be the best way of shewing it. I 
shall not forget you when I call upon my best friend ; who 
has often heard me for you, in your trying hours. Oh, that we 
both might unite with one heart in that high and heavenly pur- 
suit ; and thereby soon meet the end of pain, sickness, and 
sorrow. 

But now, if my paper did not, my feelings would put an end 
to this letter.- 



LETTER III. 

MY DEAREST LOVE— 

I should have written to you before, but for the accidental 
time of our arriving at different places after the post was gone, 
which made it next to impossible. Not that I have anything 
to write about, being a mere traveller, without a new idea : as it 
would be no new idea to say I am with very kind and pleasant 
friends, and that it has been fine weather, &c. The first and 
second night are generally a time of melancholy with me, after I 
leave home — and so it has been now. I am sick of the hurry ; 
and see every thing in so futile a point of view, that I turn In- 
dian, and think there is no wisdom but in quiet, and no place 
eligible but home. Nevertheless I have found prodigious advau- 
tage already from the journey. 

After being so much alone in the ordinary course of my life, 
and in the element of reflection, I can scarcely support a 
behaviour suited to continual society. I have been this morning 



LETTERS FROM MR. CECIL TO MRS. CECIL. 99 



so reserved at breakfast and before, that I was forced to make a 
declaration in my own defence, that I had not met a single un- 
pleasant circumstance since I came out. I felt an unusual desire 
of solitude, and therefore behaved awkwardly silent; which, in 
general, is an unpleasant, and has a suspicious appearance. I 
mention this, that you may the better understand the nature of 
this part of my character, and which is certainly growing upon 
me, but which has in it not a single grain of dissatisfaction ; but 
is rather the nest, which a thinking melancholy mind will natu- 
rally be forming for its repose — 

We yesterday saw Battle Abbey — a wonderful scene, for situa- 
tion and fine antiquity ! I have not met hitherto with anything 
equal to it. We climbed last night a vast hill to examine the 
ruins of an old castle; and to-day I feel quite satisfied. I 
want to see no more sea — hills — fields — abbeys— or cas- 
tles ! I feel vanity pervading every thing — but ETERNITY 
and its concerns ! and perceive these things to be suited to chil- 
dren very little older than my own. Before I go to I am 

in full determination, so far as I perceive it to be the will of God, 
not to return back thither the next Sunday. I have accordingly 
prevailed with my friends to leave me on Monday, that I may 
devote the whole day to affording spiritual assistance to such as 

will receive it : and then, on Tuesday, I hope to see Lady . ; 

and, on the Saturday following, your dear self. 

You remember my value and admiration of my beautiful silver 

pencil given me by and this morning, according to very 

old experience, I felt the little idol thrown down. I sup- 
pose I lost it on the hills. I hope the next I have made will be 
a bungling job, and then I shall keep it. Let us remember our 
children are pencils ! 

But it is time to slop. There is indeed, something very mean 
in the spirit's ever exhausting itself about the case which contains 
it : and, though particulars of this sort are of interesting magni- 
tude to a wife, they are insipid and unworthy to others. 

I could have wished, however, to shew you a few scenes I have 
passed, which would have been pleasant varieties for the moment, 

H 2 



100 



LETTERS FROM MR. CECIL TO MRS. CECIL. 



and which could you have seen them would have given me dou- 
ble pleasure ; — but no matter — they are vanity — 
While I remain, with ^an affection that is not vain, 

Your's, 
R. C. 



LETTER IV. 

MY DEAREST LOVE — ; Little James Street. 

I am just come home; and, having rested a little, it somehow or 
other came into my head, that 1 would sit down and write you a 
letter: not about nothing, as you proposed ; but about some- 
thing, even your very great kindness to me in my late illness. I 
am, indeed, not very apt to express my feelings, but I HAVE 
them very keen, both to good and evil ; and the last to a great 
fault, for which I desire to humble myself very low before God, 
and very sincerely before you and all I know. But alloy belongs 
to human excellence: even the great generosity of your 
temper, and the exquisite tenderness of your affectionate feel- 
ings, therefore, sometimes suffer an eclipse, that should very 
transiently appear in this letter. In this respect, I will write a 
letter about nothing. 

I think I cannot see you before Sunday, without deranging my 
affairs ; and therefore particularly request you and the children 
may be in town on Saturday morning. Though I miss your pre- 
sent society, which is always so pleasant to me; yet I rejoice 
that I part with it so much to the advantage of your health and 
spirits. 



LETTER V. 

my dear love- 
As I told you I should write but once a week, I don't know whe- 
ther you expect a letter so soon ; but I always wish to be better 
than your expectation. 



LETTERS FROM MR. CECIL TO MRS. CECIL. 



101 



You know I am a very bad out-of-doors man : and therefore 
have always wanted to come back the first day ; and, after that, 
counted the number of days till I expect to return. It is exactly 
so now : for, though I have had fine weather, and nothing un- 
pleasant has occurred, and I have spent this day in new and 
most pleasant company, and we have been seeing fine sights: yet 
I tell you my dispensation is so far from being at an end, that I 
still view every thing under a melancholy aspect, and read nothing 
but a sentence of death written on every thing, because deeply 
impressed on my mind. But nobody here, I am sure, discovers 
it: yet I feel it some relief to say it to you. 

This sentence of death, I am compelled to say, works well. It 
works with me, as the Apostle tells us it did with him — That we 
shoidd not trust in ourselves, but in God. I perceive clearly, that 
the refiner sits watching his gold during the process, and 
makes the fire merely purifying. I am only sorry, that, while I 
see no end to this process, I should so much wish to see the 
end. I do not yet take pleasure in infirmities and distresses, as 
St. Paul did ; but I am trying to learn. 

It was with much difficulty we reached here on Tuesday. At 
ftoyston we heard of a curious Cave, which we stopped to see. 
It was made by a pious Lady, several hundred years ago ; who 
thought, like a pious friend of ours, that it was better to shut 
herself up in a hole than enjoy the fresh air. She therefore got 
down by a long ladder into this subterraneous Chapel ; and, with 
her own hands, has carved the walls all round into saints, cruci- 
fixes, and scripture histories, and was buried in the midst of 
them. 

Tell brother — — , whom you will see in a few days, I have 
read the letter. It is a flagrant attack, that has been made upon 
him ; it will disturb him— but labour, want, and pain are the 
beaten roads to greatness. The Lord said to Abraham, Get out 
— get out, to a land that I will shew thee! 

I have been much with Mr. . He is a very extraordinary 

man — for sense, learning, and piety. He talks away upon the 
immense satisfaction, which a pleasant wife affords her husband; 



102 



LETTERS FROM MR. CECIL TO MRS. CECIL. 



and undertook to say to-day, that I should not hesitate a moment 
to give up a kingdom to retain mine. Now a kingdom is so poor 
a thing, that I think he might be right — but what would it have 
been, have he said a pine-apple? 

Thursday morning 1 thought it best to leave off last night, 

w hen a vein of nonsense was opened ; and therefore begin again 
this morning to add a line before we set off. I have had a good 
night, and now feel willing to go on. This shews how things are 
to us, as we are in ourselves. I have been thinking of many ex- 
pressions of Rutherford's this morning, before I was up. I feel 
one the burden of the song — " / lay my head to rest on the bo- 
som of Omnipotence!" While I can keep hold of this, it shall be 
a fine day, whether it rains, hails, or shines- 



LETTER VI. 

MY DEAR LOVE — 

I really cannot believe I am under a moral obligation to 
write on Wednesday, that you may read on Thursday, when I 
hope to see you on Friday. But, please to remember that this 
is among many other things, which I have done ; not according 
to mine, but according to your opinion and desire. I say — set 
this down as one among others, that I may not so much stand 
in the book as a debtor but creditor. 

I got down better than I expected, though not well. I have 
been to see your sister, who is very thankful that the Gospel is 
likely to meet her so advantageously in the Church. Indeed I 
hope it will be highly beneficial to many. 

Tell my little daughter I have given her a great character, 
which she must strive to maintain. Also tell her mamma, that 
I have been describing the lamentable state of idolatry in her 
heart — old idols — new idols — and which there is now every 
opportunity of enjoying while I am away to make room. But, 
while I am away and make room, and leave more leisure, I pray 



LETTERS FROM MR. CECIL TO MRS. CECIL. 103 

that you may be able to improve it by praying for yourself and 
for me. Time is short, and every real and imaginary idol will 
soon be taken away ; and then let us seriously consider what 
will be left: or, as the Prophet asks, What will ye do in 
the end thereof? 



LETTER VII. 

MY DEAREST LOVE — 

Though you have two letters of mine unanswered, and though 
I have nothing to say, yet I will take a few moments, which 
ought to be embraced for recollection, to write to you. 
So that you will do well to recollect, that this letter comes 
neither from a sense of duty, nor a matter of business— but from 
a pure desire of pleasing you : and you will recollect, that I 
would rather preach two Sermons, than write one letter. 

And now what shall I say 2 — I think what I began with is the 
best subject — recollection. Martha — Martha— thou art 
careful and troubled about many things; but one thing is 
needful; and that one, needful as it is, will be forgotten, if 
we do not set aside a portion of our time for the purpose. I 
feel that all I know and all I teach, will do nothing for my own 
soul, if I spend my time, as most people do, in business or 
company — even the best company. My soul starves to death 
in the best company ; and God is often lost in prayers and 
ordinances. Enter into thy chamber, said he, and shut thy door 
about thee! Some words in Scripture are very emphatical. 
Shut thy door means much : it means — shut out, not only non- 
sense, but business— not ouly the company abroad, but the 
company at home : It means — let thy poor soul have a little rest 
and refreshment ; and God have opportunity to speak to thee 
in a small still voice, or he will speak in thunder. 

You and I, my Love, ought to understand this, who have 
heard the loud voice so often, in so many ways. I am persuaded 
the Lord would have spoken more softly, if we would have 



104 LETTERS FROM MR. CECIL TO MRS. CECIL. 



shut the door: nor do I believe the children would have fallen 
into the fire nor out of the window, in the mean time. Let us, 
I say, think 6f this : for who can tell what the next loud call 
may say 1 It has called for our children already, and it may 
next call for us. 

But I will not press this subject, for I recollect your spirits 
are weak. However, go into thy chamber, and shut the door— 
and pray for me, that, after I have preached so often to this 
people, I may not be left to undo in private, what I am 
labouring to do in public. 

Be sure, while I ask you never to forget me in your prayers, 
that you are never forgotten in mine — such as they are (and 
which I often fear are more calculated to affront God than 
please him :) but pray I must, and I know that I do not pray 
in vain, nor can you- 



LETTER VIII. 

MY DEAR LOVE— 

I know you will be most happy to hear that my health keeps 
improving. You know I am subject, at the best (especially 
after studying hard) to feel sinkings and distressing depressions, 
that are quite foreign to my natural animation : but I know 
nothing of them, since I have been out of town. This is a complete 
argument, that I am better for coming. This help to my spirits 
is also increased, by the satisfaction I have in my mind, at all 

times, that it was the will of God I should come ^- 

This a beautiful place, and has fine air: but as for study, 
which I promised myself in so still a place and with such a good 
library, it is impossible. My determinations are as strong as 
most men's, as you know : and, if I lived constantly here, I 
would put them in full execution, whatever was the consequence; 
but, for a sojourner of two or three weeks, he has but one part 
or project, and that is to be packing up, and getting off as fast 
as he can for his poor soul's sake. 



LETTERS FROM MR. CECIL TO MRS. CECIL. 



105 



Every thing I see every where tends to prove and fix me in my 
religious views and principles. I see but one difficulty, and that 
is to determine whether careless men are more fools or madmen. 
Verily, that, which is done, says the Psalmist, on earth, God doth 
it himself: and, verily, that, which he doth, he doth by the 
Gospel; for where it is not in influence, there is nothing but 
tearing up the bowels of the earth to cast in the face of heaven. 
Collieries and Founderies, with the tremendous blasts which they 
force into them day and night, resemble nothing but Hell ; and 
the men in every respect suit the place, which at night makes 
the country seem on fire for miles round. The horrid yells they 
make when an operation takes place, joined to the roaring of the 
flames and engines, is up to any thing in poetry or imagination ; 
and, therefore, as you must understand, met my mind and 
detained my attention, when the Ladies and some of the Gentle- 
men were glad to retire. But the worst is, in these scenes and 
in the chambers of the most delicate work, all— all is wickedness — 
boys and girls — men and women, mixed and half-naked — 
corrupt and corrupting. This is a moral stench, as well as a 
natural one ; and I have lived to deplore a great manufactory on 
many solid grounds. Yet have I plainly discovered some dirty 
greasy angels — men whose black faces beam with heavenly light. 
Had I seen these assume wings, and become white as snow, and 
mount toward heaven, I should not have felt that half so great 
an act of power had been put forth. 

The Lord clothe you with his Divine Power! I will pray 
earnestly for you : but remember it is our joint work ; and it 
shall prevail, till we shall need to pray no more, and I no more 
remain your affectionate Husband, but your fellow-Heir, and 
Brother, in everlasting life. 

R.C. 



LETTER IX. 

MY DEAR LOVE — 

Pleasing is a nice art: it requires nice pencilling: daubing 
wont do. Shade after shade— neither one thing nor another, 



106 



LETTERS FROM MR. CECIL TO MRS. CECIL. 



but every thing makes a picture. A man must neither be 
contented, when his wife is absent, nor discontented. His family 
must be in peace, that his wife may be happy : but she is very 
unhappy, if it is ! Woe betide her, if her servants are well and 
peaceable, and her children well and asleep — Husband contented 
with his lot, &c. &c. ! Unfortunately for you, this is the case, and 
you are much to be pitied — but let this be your consolation, 
that there are unhappier women on earth. To be serious — what 
I wrote respecting our quietism was to make you quiet, happy, 
and satisfied: it was to make you enjoy better your present 
moment. We are not so well without you as you seem to think. 
I can assure you that whatever be the case of servants — or 
children, who are too young to distinguish between their right 
hand and left, and to whom friends and enemies are the same — 
I can assure you, with the greatest truth, that, with you, I have 
often wished to share some of my most pleasant moments — and 
that ought to suffice a wife. — — 



LETTER X. 

MY DEAR LOVE— 

I don't know if there is not something absurd, in my writing 
you a letter, which perhaps you will not receive many hours 
before I should see you myself: but, as I did not write, as I 
intended, on Friday, I thought you might be uneasy if the post 
did not deliver one on Monday. I have rode 66 miles to-day ; 
and am too much tired for any company except yours; for that 
would contribute, at this moment, to my rest, as well as pleasure. 
Indeed you have become too necessary to me, and sometimes 
occupy my mind in too vivid a degree ; and perhaps it is ex- 
pedient that this should be abated, and ought to be 

Well — I have said this, to let you see I am capable of meeting 
your ideas, more than (from the interference of clogs and impedi- 
ments) some are ready to suppose. However, affliction has made 
me, under divine influence, a much softer creature than hereto- 
fore ; and I think others will perceive it, as well as you. 



LETTERS FROM MR. CECIL TO MRS. CECIL. 107 



I am sensibly alive to your regard and affection toward me, 
which has been only too great ; and demands a return, which the 
quantity of bone put into my frame is too apt to prevent me 
from properly making : this must be my excuse to my sweet 
wife when I grieve her. 

The subject of self-denial has much occupied my mind of late. 
It is a matter that cannot be too often considered, that real 
happiness, health, order, peace, and beauty depend on self- 
denial. If nature, in its wild state and wishes and indulgent 
sensualities, is to be humoured, a dose of poison is brewing — a 
scourge for the fool's back is preparing — like drunkards, who sit 
down in good humour to tipple, but soon proceed to black eyes. 

" No man e'er found a happy life by chance, 
Or yawn'd it into being with a wish." 

Even the kingdom of heaven suffereth violence, and the violent 
only take it by force. So that perfect peace must be won by 
perpetual war— and the health of the spirit by the death of 
the flesh. There are, indeed, some who pretend to have 
discovered a cheaper way of obtaining these things ; but I never 
yet met with one who could show his bargain : so that I have 
fresh evidence of my old maxim— That religion will cost us some- 
thing, but the want of it infinitely more. 

I say, however, these things, as much to call my own mind to 
recollection as yours. And we cannot assist one another too 
much in this way 



LETTER XI. 

MY DEAREST LOVE — Little James Street. 

We are all led more by our feelings than our judgments, and 
sometimes even than our duty : and therefore I gratify mine in 
writing to you, when I should be otherwise employed ; and, even 
though I think it probable I shall deliver the .letter myself to- 
morrow morning— but I have suffered much last night on your 
account, or rather on my own. Dr. U. said some things last 



108 



LETTERS FROM MR. CECIL TO MRS. CECIL. 



night on the danger of such complaints as yours ; and, though it 
was but general conversation, I began to make something out of 
it. You kuow what the cruel ingenuity of the imagination is, so 
that I lay awake last night ; or, I may say, stood on a precipice 
from which I did not dare to look down, and from which, like 
a man fixed by enchantment, I could not remove. 

You must know how fondly we imagine, that, if we were 
present with a sick friend, they would, somehow or other, be 
in less danger. This is constantly my feeling, for my anxiety 
abates when I see you ; especially since you seemed to go forward. 

I have always felt, that, if I could see my children taken to 
Abraham's bosom — then I should wish you not so much to call 
it their death as their esc A.PE — and comfort myself; but I do 
not feel this respecting you. I am too much interested : and 
always recur to the consideration " What must / do] Whither 
must / go ? " — and this thought so much affects me, that, con- 
sidering I ought to prepare for public service, I ought not to 
write nor think any more at present on the subject. 



LETTER XII. 

MY DEAREST LOVE — 

In all things that respect your present journey, your health is to 
be first considered, and then your pleasure. I shall again say, 
let not my desire to see you prevent your enjoying either to 
the utmost of your wish or judgment: but, when I say this, do 
not suppose I therefore am unconcerned whether you come 
home or no. I have never had such a feeling for a moment since 
you left me; and I pray God nothing may ever arise to cause it 
to exist, for any unhappy interval, however short. Come horn 
whenever you see it proper: and, if I can give you anothe 
journey with myself this year, I will. You may depend upo 
it I shall be doubly watchful over the children, and be ve 
faithful to my promise to tell you truly the state of affairs. 

Your little daughter goes to Church three times a day, much 



LETTERS FTIOM MK. CECIL TO MILS. CECIL. 109 



in the spirit of too many of my hearers. She, however, behaves 
very well. I suppose you must be weary, by this time, of looking 
on the sea. Endeavour, therefore, to turn your eyes to a greater 
ocean, and 

'* Walk thoughtful on the silent, solemn shore, 
Of that vast Ocean you must sail so soon ! " 

I am highly gratified in hearing from you ; but should rather 
you would come than send. The workmen will have finished 
Very soon, and all things be ready for your reception. 

While my house is setting in order, I cannot look on any part 
without thinking of what must follow, and may very soon — 
Thou shalt die, and not live. The great Mr. Howe has written 
a long and fine discourse on " the Vanity of Man should we 
think this necessary ? Nor would it be so, were men sober; 
but means must be used to convince drunken men, that they are 
not only drunken but dying men. 

Pray make use of your present leisure for winding up your 
minds in spirituals. Everything else (that is not necessary for 
the pilgrimage) is worse than folly. It is one grand advantage 
in death, that we shall get clear of these rocks and sands for ever. 
In the mean time, there is ONE rock here, upon which a man 
may stand and smile. 

The Lord bless you, my Dear Creature, and him, with you, 
who remains, &c. &c. 



LETTER XIII. 

You cannot think how much I felt in leaving you in that 

solitary place, so like exile; and though I wish you to stay as 
long as you feel it necessary for the child, yet I shall be glad to 
hear that you feel it no longer so. The children are quite well, 
and our little son has quite forgotten you and me and the whole 
world, by reason of a new hoop which he trundles without ceas- 
ing. It would be well if new trifles and old ones were confined 
to children of his age. 

- 



110 



LETTERS FROM MR. CECIL TO MRS. CECIL. 



I got well soon after I got home : but it was not an unprofitable 
journey to me ; for I had time at Crysal to wind up by reflec- 
tion. — Life is hurried through in business, and I cannot abstract 
enough for my soul's health. I advise you when your attention 
to the child can be remitted, to use your solitude for the same 
purpose. 

The painters finish to morrow. I never think of repairing the 
house we have, but it occurs that we are but covering our coffin, 
or making a place to die iu. Before we shall need another 
painting, we shall both be of darker hue than the walls we leave. 
But, perhaps, this is too gloomy a strain to be continued ; and, 
therefore, let me rather say we shall have left a poor clay tene- 
ment, too old to repair, for a house not made with hands, eternal 
in the heavens. 

In short, despair and hope are the fundamentals of Christi- 
anity — that is, to despair of keeping or repairing that which 
must fall, and to hope for that which will satisfy and 

NEVER FAIL.- 



LETTER XIV. 

1 said to myself, last Thursday, when an insect flew betwee 

us, and left a slight sting— I said, " I know when I have rod 
five miles from town the sting will be gone, and nothing bu 
honey remain;" and so it was; and therefore, my Dear Crea 
ture, make yourself quite happy respecting me. I am as well a 
when I left town, and have every reason to believe I shall retur 
to town better than I expected. We shall travel slowly. Mrs 

• is pretty well. We rode together very pleasantly, as yo 

may suppose : but clouds threatened the horseman ; and, there 
fore, while the christian conversed very excellently on divine 
things, I often observed the woman anxious about her husband 
and child. Several new sights and objects make me daily wish 
you were with me ; for you have eyes, and I could shew YOU 
what you would enjoy. Yet, after all, beautiful scenes and 



LETTERS FROM MR. CECIL TO MRS. CECIL. 1 1 1 



beautiful pictures are all trifles that will not last long. Nothing 
will last, but what is intelligent. The finest mutes upon 
earth soon become nothing: they are a body, but a dead one : 
they want that, which is the soul of every thing — intelli- 
gence; and the soul of intelligence is religion. 

I have made many observations about travelling, which you 
will one day hear. You ought to be satisfied, that I let YOU 
into all things in the " closet" that respect myself. 

I thank you for your kind letter. I mean to preserve it, and to 
pray that you may be long preserved to me ; for you do not 
tremble at the idea of losing me, more than I do in return. 



LETTER XV. 

MY DEAR LOVE— 
I just scribble a line to say that I am going on in my journey 
very well. I have also considerable advantage in travelling with 
a man — for a tender, feeble Lady could not labour so much. I 
make him read out aloud in the chaise, which he also feels an 
advantage : so that I travel with Pascal — Adam — Maclaurin — and 
the Bible. Now I say a lady could not afford this. 

But, with all these advantages, I am ready to acknowledge, 
that the want of your company makes a terrible void. How 
many tender things have I lost! — with, now and then, a good 
thing, i. e. a bit of oratory, a scrap of literature, a shred of poetry, 
and a cup of peculiarities. Some of these peculiars do not so 
well please alone ; but, when mixed up, they are not unpleasing 
to my taste. I assure you I often think of you in the mass as a 
character, (and a character you certainly are) that I am 
delighted with. For, as in a piece of music which we excessively 
admire, there are, now and then, some grunting minors ; yet, 
these, mixed up with sweet returning coucords, add greatly to the 
harmony upon the whole. But don't, from what I say here, put 
in any more minors than usual — as a little goes a great way ! 

But now I am so angry at the strain of my mind, that I will 



1 12 LETTERS FROM MR. CECIL TO HIS SON ISRAEL. 



write no more. I am quite surprised at myself to reflect (though 
I have known myself many years too) that, with a weighty con- 
cern on my mind, and upon which my heart has sent up many 
requests, I should be so sportive and gay. But it is my very na- 
ture to be gay, as it is some others to be gloomy; and it brings 
me into many a snare — and I can only say — The Lord pardon 
thy servant in this thing ! 



LETTERS 

FROM 

MR. CECIL TO HIS SON ISRAEL, 



LETTER I. 

MY DEAR BOY — 

I was much pleased with your letter to your sister ; and indeed 
it gave great satisfaction to all our family, partk ularly to your 
Mamma. We rejoice to see you speak so like a man, and to find 
that you so rightly estimate the value of your situation at school. 
For you are now a bee in a garden : nor can you possibly con- 
ceive what advantage you will reap from what you now gather ; 
for though this is not the whole of what you are to learn, it is 
so essential a part that it will add power and lustre to the rest. I 
have been turninsr over a s:reat number of books at different 
shops, to find one to send to you, but I never met with more 
disappointment. 

I wish you to attend to a correct habit of writing. 



LETTERS FROM MR. CECIL TO HIS SON ISRAEL. 



113 



Thus far respecting literature : but, let me again and again re- 
mind you, that, great as that is, both that and every thing else 
are but dung and dross to the excellency of the knowledge of 
Christ. Upon that, all for time and eternity hangs ! Pray there- 
fore, my Dear Child, to the Holy Spirit, to give you this life and 
light in your heart. I have sent you a sermon I have published to 
the children of St. John's — I wish you to read it carefully 



LETTER II. 

MY DEAR ISRAEL— Feb. 1802. 

Your Mama received your letter at the time I was at . 

She is greatly satisfied that you so tenderly remember what I 
said to you. The truth is, my Dear, that your mind is greatly 
improved, and we cannot but notice it and rejoice in it ; and you 
may depend upon it we shall not fail to encourage a right dispo- 
sition, to the utmost of our power. Your attention to me, par- 
ticularly, has been marked by every one in the family, as well as 
myself. 

There is a point you should never lose sight of— that, when a 
youth takes ill courses, he begins to be shy of his parents, that is, 
of his only true and fast friends : he secretly forms connections 
with broken, if not dangerous reeds ; and often plunges thereby 
into difficulties and disappointments, that his real friends cannot 
help him out of. I am rejoiced to see you take the contrary 
course. 

I marked that wise and dutiful confidence, with which you 
treated me ; and that jealousy you had, as to how you stood in 
my mind. Watch against any thing which may damp and impede 
this early friendship with your truest friend, and you will prosper. 

Our family and friends are well, except , who is daily getting 

worse; but then what is that to her? — She has fought the good 
fight ; and is only waiting a little longer for her crown of glory.— 

t I 



114 LETTERS FROM MR. CECIL TO HIS SON ISRAEL. 



See what a blessed thing it is, to be ready to meet what we all 
must meet. A king is a beggar, compared to a Christian. 

Present my kindest regards to Mr. . Be careful to keep 

up your character with that excellent man and friend. Be also 
assured that I remain, 

Your very affectionate Father, 

R. C. 



LETTER III. 

my dear boy- 
Nothing can lie nearer my heart than your welfare; and no- 
thing rejoices me so much as to observe your mind take a^ 
solid turn, and think of the things that belong to your peace. 

I hope you have recovered from your childish habits, and are 
joining in my design of building yourself up for life. I shall re- 
joice to assist you, but I cannot do it if you do not work at 
school, and serve yourself 



LETTER IV. 

MY DEAR ISRAEL — 

We received your letter; and should have sent you word, had 
you not written, about coming home. 

You know I am very particular about keeping time ; and have 
always seen proper to oppose that vagrant custom of leaving 
school before it is ended, or going after it begins. But there are 
some cases which make it as proper to break a general rule of 
expedience, as at other times to keep it ; and, therefore, as I wish 
to see you before I set out on my journey to — — I wish Mr. 
to permit you to come home on the 13th. 

I hope you will be careful to conduct yourself with great indus- 
try and propriety, while you are at school. Never complain that 



LETTERS FROM MR. CECIL TO HIS SON ISRAEL. 115 



your employment is arduous ; since I have observed that constant 
employment, not only stretches the powers, but that, next to the 
grace of God, it is the best prevention of vice. 

Beg of God to give you his blessing, and depend upon my 
prayers meeting yours, 

Who remain, &c. 



LETTER V. 

My DEAR ISRAEL — 
I was glad to hear from you, though no particular business oc- 
curred ; especially as you could send me an account of your being 
trusted with the care of others. You may see yourseSf, what I 
could not help remarking, that, as people rise in character, every 
body owns it. A little while ago you were so boyish, that I 

could not trust you to yourself at but was forced to limit 

you to the view of my window. Now you can be trusted with 
the care of others ; and from a bad rank-and-file, have become a 
captain. 

May you go forward, my Dear Child, in the best progress, till 
you become an ISRAEL indeed, that is a Prince prevailing with 
God. 

I must just mention here, that it must give me always great 
pleasure to afford you any gratification that is not inconsistent 
with my plan and views ; and, though I am obliged to object to 

your proposal of going to yet my reasons are strong ; and I 

know that the credit you will give me for their being solid will 
satisfy you. 

Both your Mama and myself were much gratified with your 
dutiful and just remarks on your past life. Indeed, most of lis 
must reflect in the same way, when we reflect justly. But you are 
young, and I hope and pray that you may begin early to turn 
away from sin and vanity to the living God— then, of course, you 
will be closely united to us in this and a better world. 

The moment this divine principle, which we call grace, be- 
gins to work like leaven in the mass, it will refine and exalt, till 

I 2 



1 1 6 LETTERS FROM MR. CECIL TO HIS SON ISRAEL. 

the subject rises, not only above his fellows, but above himself. 
He climbs an eminence, and sees a prospect which sublimes his 
character; or as the Scriptures express it, it grows night and day , 
though a man knoweth not how, nor to what he is advancing. 

There are some surprising instances of it already in this dark 
and long neglected place. More, I trust, will be added ; and, 
whenever one appears, it is evidently the Lord's doing, and mar- 
vellous in the discerning eye. 

Your Mama and Sisters unite in love — God bless you, my 
Dear. Forget not to pray to Him for his grace, in which I will 
join you, 

Who remain 

Your very affectionate Father. 



LETTER VI. 

MY DEAR CHILD — 

Whether you hear from us soon or late, you may always de- 
pend upon it you are not forgotten or neglected by us. You 
have given us additional reasons for wishing to communicate with 
you ; and I assure you that both your Mama and myself think 
and speak of you with great satisfaction at all times. You see, 
my Dear, the happiness that always attends right conduct ; 
and, as you live, you will see this more and more. Now, my 
Dear, let us find that you are making a progress in well doing — 

that you are daily cultivating Mr. -'s good opinion. You have 

this encouragement to attempt it, not only that you will be sure 
to succeed, if you really try ; but, also, that the good opinion of 
so worthy and pious a man will always be an honour to you. 

Above all, my Dear, let it never be off your mind, that the 
blessing of the Lord, only makelh truly rich. His good will is 
happiness in this world, aud in that which is to come. Seek, and 
you shall find — knock, and it shall be opened. If all the world 
were your friends and He not, you must be a miserable wretch, 



LETTERS FROM MR. CECIL TO HIS SON ISRAEL. 117 

now and eternally. Therefore seek the Lord while he may be 
found: call upon him, while he is near. Your Mama will write 
soon. In the mean time, she prays that God may bless and pre- 
serve you, in which I heartily join, who 

Remain, &c. &c. 



LETTER VII. 

MY DEAR CHILD— 

I received your two epistles, which prove you are very impor- 
tant or very importunate. Know, also, that if I wrote the 
latter END of this week instead of the beginning, it would 
be in full time to settle whether you should come home a day 
sooner or later than usual. I humbly conceive, therefore, there 
has been no delay; though much business has pressed on my 
part. 

I should also remind you, that you should never depart from 
school, in that idle and slabbering manner, in which some scho- 
lars, (I mean blockheads) are permitted to do, who think of run- 
ning from the post of honour and improvement to a Christmas 
fire and plumb-pudding ; but that, instead of this, you should 
stand the last at your post — or, like an intelligent traveller on a 
mountain, catch the last glimpse of the prospect, and slightest 
beam of the parting day. 

Then, on the sun of science setting, you retire to your friends 
at home: who, in such circumstances, must hail your ap- 
proach. May you thus finish this stage of your life with reputa- 
tion, and continue to bring comfort to your Parents and respect 
and happiness to yourself! 



LETTER VIII. 

MY DEAR CHILD — 

I have been thinking about the occasion of your letter; but I 
cannot advise you to be confirmed, before you have a more seri 
ous sense of religion than I have yet perceived in you. 



1 1 8 LETTERS FROM MR. CECIL TO HIS SON ISRAEL. 



The mere form of a spiritual benefit received or declaration 
made, cannot profit before a serious intention takes place in the 
mind, I hope and pray that this may take place before the next 
Confirmation ; but I have not seen sufficient evidence of it in you 
yet. Still if Mr. has observed anything of the kind, and there- 
fore advises you to go with the rest, I shall be satisfied : and I 
shall leave it to staud thus. 

But what concerns you more than the being confirmed at this 
time, is, that your heart should be impressed with the vow you 
Tiave to take upon yourself therein. Do you, indeed, mean to 
f< renounce the pomps and vanities of this wicked world — the 
sinful lusts of the flesh" — and the tyranny of Satan? And yet, 
whether you are outwardly confirmed or not, if you do not in 
your heart renounce these, you may die young, and must lie un- 
der the punishment of the wicked for ever. Pray, therefore, my 
Dear Child, to God, that he would, for Christ's sake, keep you, 
and deliver you. Oh, that his grace may reach your heart — that 
you may be ready to meet death whenever it comes ! This, my 
Dear, is the great secret and discovery. Then it is that a man 
can properly say, "I have found it! I have found it!" — 
when we can look forward and consider death as our gain. But, 
till we attain this by faith in Christ, all we can look at, whether 
in this world or the next, is loss, guilt, and fear. 

God bless you, my Dear ; and breathe by his Spirit into your 
heart, till you come out another witness in my family that God is 
with us— — 



LETTER IX. 

MY DEAR ISRAEL — 

Since I saw you, I did as I promised — i. e. made what inquiries 
I could for your future establishment. And a gentleman in Gray's 
Inn, whom you know not, who has been one of my hearers many 
years, has promised me to take you in the Term following your 
return from school. 

In the mean time, it will be necessary for you to work with all 



LETTERS FROM MR. CECIL TO HIS SON ISRAEL. 119 



your might ; for I should not chuse you to leave school till you 
were a better Latinist. I would have you leave Greek intirely, 
and attend to Cicero. I wish you to be able to read a Latin 
Author readily. 

Your brother Jesaiah and yourself are graciously provided for, 
as to a favourable and respectable entrance on the present world ; 
but, even that needs care and industry to prove successful. But, 
after all is done, and however you may succeed, it is but for a 
moment; and an eternity of joy unspeakable, or of sorrow 
unutterable must follow: may God impress this consideration 
deeply on both your hearts ! 

Your Mama heartily joins in wishing you every blessing, with, 
my Dear Child, 

Your affectionate Father, 
Nov. 1803. R. C. 



LETTER X. 

MY DEAR ISRAEL — 

You have sent to me and to your Mama letters which we can- 
not but approve ; and which must give us pleasure, as specimens 

of a right mind. I am glad you feel your situation at , 

during our absence from home, so pleasant; and I am only anxi- 
ous lest you should forget, at certain moments, your own views 
of propriety, and the necessity of preserving a character. For 
human nature is prone to err : it not only needs our own inces- 
sant attention to keep it erect ; but we need the help of a friend's 
eye, even to know when we err. 

I have no doubt of your resolution to be right : but you must 
watch ; and that particularly against the following mistakes — 
loquacity — sanguine admirations and censures — incorrect hours 
— assuming sentiments — and a loud and boisterous manner of 
talking. All these are so remote from the modest behaviour of 
a young man of real merit, that he might ruin himself by them, 
though as upright and well meaning as possible. Now I am 



1 20 LETTERS FROM MR. CECIL TO HIS SON ISRAEL, 



thankful you have so bright an example in the contrary respects 
in Miss M. You cannot do better than study her manners as 
well as her piety. Desire her earnestly to point out to you where 
you break down ; and depend upon it, you must throw in a good 
deal to make weight and arrive at the real quantum, on account of 
her delicacy. 

There is another thing I wish to warn you of, which is of great 
importance to you — I mean the danger of letting yourself 
down. You have written a hymn, which has brought you re- 
putation : all this is well, and this has procured you reputation 
beyond your ability to keep up without much care and caution. 
If, however, on the contrary, you scribble at random, and throw 
about your crudities, you will sink your reputation. A pike, 
says iEsop, made some successful attempts in the river, which 
emboldened him to venture into the sea, where he was at once 
gobbled up. 

I have pointed out the danger — now for the remedy. It is 
both simple and safe. Let nothing go from under your pen, but 
what passes under my eye. Beware of saying " It is but a little 
thing. None but fools have little things, which touch their 
characters. Wise men know that a small leak will sink a large 
ship. Let me, therefore, enjoin it upon you, to write nothing 
before I see you. — — 



1803. 



A 



VIEW OF THE CHARACTER 

OF THE 

REV. RICHARD CECIL. 



JVXrS. CECIL has so well availed herself of the advantages 
afforded by her near relation to our departed friend, in depicting 
his more domestic feelings and habits, that I shall limit my 
view of him to his personal and ministerial character. 
In doing this, while I shall communicate occasionally the impres- 
sions made by him on my own mind, most of which were re- 
corded at the time they were made, I shall endeavour to render 
him as much, as possible, the pourtrayer of his own character, by 
detailing those descriptions of his views and feelings which I 
gathered from him. 

Nature, education, and grace combine to form and 
model the PERSONAL CHARACTER of every Christian. God 
gives to his reasonable creature such physical and intellectual 
constitution as he pleases : education and circumstances hide or 
unfold, restrain or mature this constitation : and grace, while it 
regulates and sanctifies the powers of the man, varies its own 
appearances according to the varieties of those powers. And it 
is by the endless modifications and counteractions of these prin- 
ciples that the Personal Character of a Christian is formed. 

It might have been expected from Mr. Cecil's earliest displays 
of character, that he was formed to be an instrument of extensive 



122 CHARACTER OF REV. RICHARD CECIL. 

evil or of eminent good. There was a decision — a daring — 
an untameableness in the structure of his mind even when 
a boy, combined with a tone of authority and command and a 
talent in the exercise of these qualities, to which the minds of 
his associates yielded an implicit subjection. Fear of conse- 
quences never entered into his view. Opposition, especially if 
accompanied by anything like severity or oppression, awakened 
unrelenting resistance. 

Yet this bold and untameable spirit was allied to a noble and 
generous disposition. There was a magnificence in his mind. 
While he was scrupulously delicate, perhaps even to some excess, 
on subjects entrusted to his secrecy, and on affairs in progress : 
yet he would never lend himself in his ow n concerns, or in those 
of other persons, to anything that bordered on artifice and ma- 
noeuvre : for he had a native and thorough contempt of whatever 
was mean, little, and equivocating. That " honesty is the best 
policy" may be a strong or the prevailing motive for uprightness 
with men of a lower tone of character, but I question if it at all 
entered into calculation with my great friend. His mind was too 
noble, to have recourse to other means or to aim at other ends, 
than those which he avowed ; and too intrepid not to avow those 
which he did entertain, so far as might be required or expedient. 

His temptations were to the sins of the spirit, rather than those 
of the flesh : and he possessed, all his life long a superiority to 
the pleasures of mere sense not often seen. He was, indeed, 
temperate in all things — holding his bodily appetites in entire 
subjection. 

Sympathy with suffering was an eminent characteristic 
of Mr. Cecil's mind — a sympathy which sprung less from that 
softness and sensibility which are the ornament of the female, 
than from the generosity of his disposition. He would have had 
all men happy. It gratified his generous nature to ease the bur- 
dens of suffering man. If any w ere afflicted by the visitations of 
God, he taught them to bow with submission while he pitied 
and relieved : if the affliction were the natural and evident fruit 
of crimes, he admonished while he sympathized : if the sufferings 



PERSONAL. 



123 



of man or brute arose from the voluntary inflictions of others, he 
was indignant against the oppressor. 

Such was the intrepid and noble, yet humane mind, which 
was trained by Divine Grace, under a long course of moral disci- 
pline, for eminent usefulness in the Church of G od. Mr. Cecil's 
intellectual endowmeuts will be spoken of hereafter. At present, 
I shall trace the rise and the advances of his Christian Character. 

He had, as Mrs. Cecil has stated, early religious impressions. 
These were first received from Janeway's " Token fox Children," 
which his mother gave him when he was about six years of age. 
" I was much affected by this book," said he, and recollect that 
I wept, and got into a corner where I prayed that I also might 
have * an interest in Christ/ like one of the children there men- 
tioned, though I did not then know what the expression meant." 

These impressions of his childhood wore away. He fell into 
the follies and vices of youth ; and, by degrees, began to listen to 
infidel principles, till he avowed himself openly an unbeliever. 
He has alluded frequently in his writings to this criminal part of 
his history, and Mrs. Cecil has touched on the subject ; but I 
shall add some paragraphs on this point partly in his own words. 

He was suffered to proceed to awful lengths in infidelity. The 
natural daring of his mind allowed him to do nothing by halves. 
Into whatever society he enlisted himself he was its leader. He 
became even an Apostle of Infidelity — anxious to banish the 
scruples of more cautious minds, and to carry them all lengths 
with his own. And he was too successful. In after life he has 
met more than one of these converts, who have laughed at all his 
affectionate and earnest attempts to pull down the fabric erected 
too much by his own hands. 

Yet he was never wholly sincere in his infidelity. He has left 
a most impressive and encouraging testimony to the power of 
Parental Influence in preserving his mind, under the grace of 
God from entirely believing his own lie.* He gave me a farther 
instance of the power of conscience in this respect : — 

* See Remains : On the Influence of the Parental Character, pp. 173, 174. 



124 CHARACTER OF REV. RICHARD CECIL. 

" When I was sunk in the depths of Infidelity, I was afraid to 
read any author who treated Christianity in a dispassionate, wise, 
and searching manner. He made me uneasy. Conscience would 
gather strength. I found it more difficult to stifle her remon- 
strances. He would recal early instructions and impressions, 
while my happiness could only consist with their obliteration." 

Yet he appears to have taken no small pains to rid himself of 
his scruples: — " I have read/' said he, " all the most acute and 
learned and serious infidel writers, and have been really sur- 
prized at their poverty. The process of my mind has been such 
on the subject of Revelation, that I have often thought Satan 
has done more for me than for the best of them ; for I have had, 
and could have produced, arguments, that appeared to me far 
more weighty than any I ever found in them against Revelation/ 7 

He did not proceed in this career of sin without occasional 
checks of conscience. Take the following instance : — 

My father had a religious servant. I frequently cursed and 
reviled him. He would only smile on me. That went to my 
heart. I felt that he looked on me as a deluded creature. I felt 
that he thought he had something which I knew not how to 
value, and that he was therefore greatly my superior. I felt 
there was a real dignity in his conduct. It made me appear little 
even in my own eyes. If he had condescended to argue with 
me, I could have cut some figure : at least by comparison, 
wretched as it would have been. He drew me once to hear Mr. 
Whitfield. I was 17 or 18 years old. It had no sort of religious 
effect on me, nor had the preaching of any man in my uncon- 
verted state. My religion began in contemplation. Yet I con- 
ceived a high reverence for Mr. Whitfield. I no longer thought 
of him as the Dr. Squintum we were accustomed to buffoon at 
school. I saw a commanding and irresistible effect, and he made 
me feel my own insignificance." 

For this daring offender, however, God had mercy in reserve! 
He was the child of many tears, instructions, admonitions, and 
prayers; and, though now a prodigal, he was to be recovered 
from his wickedness ! 



PERSONAL. 



While under the controul of bad principles, he gave into every 
species of licentiousness — saving that, even then, the native no- 
bleness of his mind made him despise whatever he thought mean 
and dishonourable. Into this state of slavery he was brought by 
his sin : but here the mercy of God taught him some most im- 
portant lessons, which influenced his views and governed his 
ministry through after life ; and the same mercy then rescued 
him from the slavery to which he had submitted. The penetra- 
tion and grandeur of his mind, with his natural superiority to 
sensual pleasures, made him feel the littleness of every object 
which engages the ambition and the desires of the carnal man : 
insomuch that God had given him, in this unusual way of 
bringing him to himself, a thorough disgust of the world before 
he had gained any hold of higher objects and better pleasures. 

It was thus that God prepared him for further communications 
of mercy. And here he felt the advantage of having been 
connected with sincere Christians. He knew them to be holy, 
and he felt that they were happy. " It was one of the first 
things," said he, " which struck my mind in a profligate state, 
that, in spite of all the folly and hypocrisy and fanaticism which 
may be seen among religious professors, there was a mind after 
Christ, a holiness, a heavenliness, among real Christians." He 
added, on another occasion, " My first convictions on the sub- 
ject of religion were confirmed from observing that really religious 
persons had some solid happiness among them, which I had felt 
that the vanities of the world could not give. I shall never for- 
get standing by the bed of my sick mother. " Are not you afraid 
to die?" I asked her: "No." "No! Why does the uncer- 
tainty of another state give you no concern T " Because God 
has said to me, ' Fear not : when thou passest through the wa- 
ters I will be with thee: and through the rivers they shall not 
overflow thee/ The remembrance of this scene has oftentimes 
since drawn an ardent prayer from me that I might die the death 
of the righteous." 

His mind opened very gradually to the truths of the Gospel : 
and the process through which he was led, is a striking evidence 



126 



CHARACTER OF REV. RICHARD CECIL. 



of the imminence of his past danger. " My feelings," he said, 
" when I was first beginning to recover from my Infidelity, prove 
that I had been suffered to go great lengths ; and to a very awful 
degree, to believe my own lie. My mind revolted from Christi- 
anity. God did not bring me to himself, by any of the peculiar 
motives of the Gospel. When I was about twenty years old, I 
became utterly sick of the vanity, and disgusted with the folly, of 
the world. I had no thought of Jesus Christ, or of Redemption. 
The very notion of Jesus Christ or of Redemption repelled me. 
I could not endure a system so degrading. I thought there might 
possibly be a Supreme Being ; and if there Were such a Being, he 
might hear me when I prayed. To worship the Supreme Being 
seemed somewhat dignified. There was something grand and 
elevating in the idea. But the whole scheme and plan of Re- 
demption appeared mean, and degrading, and dishonourable to 
man. The New Testament, in its sentiments and institutions re- 
pelled me; and seemed impossible to be believed, as a religion 
suitable to man." 

The grace of God triumphed, however, over all opposition. 
The religion, which began in this disgust with the world and dis- 
affection to the peculiar doctrines of the Gospel, made rapid 
advances in his mind. The seed sown in tears by his inestimable 
mother, though long buried, now burst into life, and shot forth 
with vigour : and he became a preacher of that truth, which 
once he laboured to destroy ! Yet grace did not annihilate the 
natural character and qualities of the mind ; though it regulated 
and directed them. The Christian's feelings and experience were 
modified by the constitution of the man. After a long course of 
spiritual watchfulness and warfare, he spoke thus of himself: — 

" There is what Bacon calls a dry light, in which subjects 
are viewed, without any predilection, or passion, or emotion, but 
simply as they exist. This is very much my character as a 
Christian. I have great constitutional resistance. Tell me such 
a thing is my duty — I know it is, but there I stop. Talk to me 
of hell— -my heart would rise with a sort of daring stubborn- 
ness. There is a constitutional desperation about me, which was 



PERSONAL. 



127 



the most conspicuous feature in my character when young, and 
which has risen up against the gracious measures which God has 
all my life taken to subdue and break it. I feel I can do little in 
religion without encouragement. I am persuaded and satis- 
fied, tied and bound, by its truth and importance and value ; 
but I view the subject in a dry light. A strong sense of di- 
vine friendship goes a vast way with me. When I fall, God 
will raise me. When I want, God will provide. When I am in 
perplexity, God will deliver. He cares for me — pities me — bears 
with me — guides me — loves me." 

But the energy of Divine Grace was most conspicuous, in the 
controul and mastery of this resisting and high spirit of which our 
friend complained. Nay, if there were any one Christian Virtue 
in which he was more advanced than any other, it appears to me 
to have been humility — not that humility which debases itself 
that it may be exalted, and which is offended if its professions 
be believed : but the humility which arose from abiding and 
growing conviction of his infinite distance from the standard of 
perfection, and the little comparative use which he had made of 
his many means and helps in approaching that standard — an hu- 
mility that expressed itself, therefore, in a teachableness of mind,* 
a ready acknowledgment of excellence in others, and a candour 
in judging of other persons, which are seldom equalled ; and 
which were rare endowments in a mind that could not but feel its 
own powers, and its superiority to that of most other men. But 
God has a thousand unseen methods of forming: and cherishing 
those graces in his servants, which seem most opposed to their 
constitution, and least to be expected in their circumstances. 

Mr. Cecil gave me one day the following remarkable illustra- 
tion of this subject in his own case : — It is a nice question in 
casuistry — How far a man may feel complacency in the exercise of 

* " A friend, who knew him for thirty or forty years, has informed me," says Mr. 
Wilson, " that he was more ready to hear of his faults from persons whom he esteemed, 
than most men. When any failings were pointed out to him, he usually thanked the re- 
prover, and anxiously enquired for further admonitions. I have observed myself, that, 
when he gave advice, which he did with acuteness and decision, he was quite superior to 
that little vanity which is offended if the counsel be not followed." 



128 



CHARACTER OF REV. RICHARD CECIL. 



talent. A hawk exults on his wing: he skims and sails, delight- 
ing in the consciousness of his powers. I know nothing of this 
feeling. Dissatisfaction accompanies me, in the study and 
in the pulpit. I never made a sermon, with which I felt satis- 
fied: I never preached a sermon, with which I felt satisfied. I 
have always present to my mind such a conception of what 
might be done, and I sometimes hear the thing so done, that 
what I do falls very far beneath what it seems to me it should 
be. Some sermons which I have heard have made me sick of 
my own for a month afterwards. Many ministers have no con- 
ception of anything beyond their own world : they compare 
themselves only with themselves ; and, perhaps they must do so : 
if I could give them my views of their ministry, without chang- 
ing the men, they would be ruined ; while now they are eminent 
instruments in God's hands. But some men see too much be- 
yond themselves for their own comfort. Perhaps complacency in 
the exercise of talent, be it what it may, is hardly to be sepa- 
rated, in such a wretched heart as man's from pride. It seems 
to me that this dissatisfaction with myself, is the messenger sent 
to buffet me and keep me down. In other men, the separation 
between complacency and pride may be possible ; but I scarcely 
think it is so in me."* 

I have alluded to Mr. Cecil's ready acknowledgment 
of the worth of others; and I must add, that he culti- 
vated that discrimination of excellence, which leads a man to 
discover and esteem it in the midst of imperfections. He had an 
unfeigned regard to real worth, wherever it was found. The 
powers of the understanding have often fascinated men of inferior 
wisdom, and lessened the odiousness of an immoral state of heart 
too plainly seen in others ; but, if the excellencies of the head and 
the heart must be disjoined, he never failed to value that which 

* Mr. Churtonbasa remark on Dr. Johnson, somewhat of a similar nature to this of 
Mr. C. on himself. He thinks that " Johnson's morbid melancholy and constitutional in- 
firmities were intended by Providence, like St. Paul's thorn in the flesh, to check intellec- 
tual conceit and arrogance; which the consciousness of his extraordinary talents, awake as 
he was to the voice of praise, might otherwise have generated iu a very culpable degree/ 
Boswell's Life of Johnson, 2d Edit. 8vo. vol. III. p. 564. 



PERSONAL. 



is most truly valuable. He would say — u Such a friend of ours 
is what many men look down on, as a weak man; but I honour 
his wisdom and his devotedness. He throws himself out, and all 
the powers which God has given him, into the service of his 
Master, in all those ways which seem to him best; and, though 
perhaps he and I should for ever differ on the best way, and 
though I see in him many peculiarities and weaknesses, yet I ho- 
nour and love the man: I revere his simplicity and his piety. 
He is what God has made him ; and all that he is he puts into 
action for God." If Mr. Cecil was at any time severe in his re- 
marks on others, his severity was chiefly directed against that 
ignorant vanity and affectation, which push a man forward where 
great men would retire, and which make him dogmatical where 
wise men would speak with humility and candour. 

Closely allied with his humility, was that openness to con- 
viction, which Mr. Cecil possessed in an unusual degree. He 
had dived so deeply into his own heart, and had read man so ac- 
curately — his short sightedness, his scanty span, his pride, and his 
passions — that he was, more than most men, superior to that 
little feeling which makes us quit the scholar's form. Many men 
speak of themselves and of all around them as in a state of pu- 
pilage and childhood, but I never approached a man, on whose 
mind this conviction had a more real and practical influence. 

Disinterestedness was a pre-eminent characteristic of 
Mr. Cecil as a Christian. His whole spirit and conduct spoke 
one language: — "Let me and mine be nothing, so that thy king- 
dom may come!" His disinterestedness was grounded on his 
conviction of the absolute nothingness of all earthly good, com- 
pared with the glory of Christ and the interests of his kingdom. 
In all pecuniary transactions, of a private or public nature, he 
was governed by this principle; and made a free and chearful 
sacrifice of what he might have lawfully obtained, if he thought 
his receiving it would impede his usefulness. 

On one occasion of this nature, he explained the noble prin- 
ciple on which he acted: — "A Christian is called to refrain from 
some things, which, though actually right, yet will not bear a 

t K 



130 



CHARACTER OF REV. RICHARD CECIL 



good appearance to all men. I once judged it my duty to refuse 
a considerable sum of money, which I might lawfully and fairly 
have received, because I considered that my account of the mat- 
ter could not be stated to some, to whom a different representa- 
tion would be made. A man who intends to stand immaculate, 
and, like Samuel, to come forward and say — Whose Ox or whose 
Ass have I taken? must count the cost. I knew that my charac- 
ter was worth more to me than this sum of money. By probity, 
a man honours himself. It is the part of a wise man, to wave the 
present good for the future increase. A merchant suffers a large 
quantity of goods to go out of the kingdom to a foreign land, but 
he has his object in doing so : he knows, by calculation, that he 
shall make so much more advantage by them. A Christian is 
made a wise man by counting the cost. The best picture I know 
of the exercise of this virtue, drawn by the hand of man, is that 
by John Bunyan in the characters of Passion and Patience."* 
Associated with this disinterestedness of spirit, was a singular 

* I cannot but add here a conversation reported to me by a friend, which he had with 
Mr. Cecil on the subject of his tythes at Chobham, and which most strikingly illustrates 

his disinterested character : — 

" My tythes produce only so inuch"--- 
" Why do you not increase them 1" — 

" We fixed on a sum, and, as it appeared something like satisfactory to the landholders, 
I determined not to raise them, though they were at their own price." 

" Sir, you are not doing even conscientious justice to your family. I am persuaded, 
from my experience in tythes, that your parish, from its extent, would yield much more- 
per year in tythe only— exclusively of your glebe, &c." 

" So I have understood. But, my dear friend, tythes are an obnoxious property ; and 
every increase creates bitterness of spirit. Why, sir, though my parishioners had them on 
their own terms, one of them the first year came to me and said he could not pay, plead- 
ing some loss with which my tythes were not in the least degree connected." 

" But, Sir, why not appoint your friend, Mr. , to receive for you 

" That would be doing by deputy a thing disagreeable to myself." 

" Admitting all the motives clearly implied by your answers, yet, sir, how do you divest 
yourself of the force of the argument derived from that law, which declares a man cen- 
surable, who does not to the utmost of his power take care of those of his own household?" 

" I was permitted to go to Chobham to preach the Gospel. Whatever as their Minister 
T could receive, without heart-burnings, was all well ; but, to raise an income by compul- 
sion (whatever I might do with one already raised) I could not. I therefore told them, 
that, if they would attend to the knowledge of the truth, I would never quarrel about their 
tythes. If I thought I should make one man step back one pace in his way to the attain- 
ment of the truth, through a suspicion that I sought my interest more than their eternal 
happiness, I would not receive one guinea of them. My dear friend, I have again and 
again considered this subject, and I am to be content with what is sent me. It will not do 
for a Minister of the Gospel of Peace to be raising the revenue of the Church and driving 
the people from it. We have too much of this at this day. If, in the spirit of peace, more 
was designed for me I should have it. My people seem content, and things must remain 
a? they are with regard to what they pay me. If they will now but hear and receive the 
truth, it is all I shall ever ask of them." 



PERSONAL. 



131 



PRACTICAL RELIANCE ON PROVIDENCE, in all the IKOSt 

minute and seemingly indifferent affairs of his life. He was em- 
phatically, to use his own expression, " a pupil of signs" — waiting 
for and following the leadings and openings of Divine Providence 
in his affairs. I once consulted him throughout a very delicate 
and perplexing affair. In one stage of it, he said to me — " You 
have not done this thing exactly as I should have felt my mind 
led to do it. I feel myself in such cases like a child in the mid- 
dle of an intricate and perplexed wood. Two considerations 
weigh with me, First — If I could see all the involutions, and re- 
lations, and bearings, and consequences of the affair, then I might 
feel myself able to move forward: but, Secondly — I know not 
one of them, not even the shadow of one, nay, hardly the pro- 
bability of such and such issues. Then I am driven to simple 
reliance. I have never found God fail me in such cases. When 
I am utterly lost and confounded, I look for openings, clear and 
evident to my own conviction. I have a warrant for all this. 
Our grand danger with reference to Providence is that we should 
walk as men : — Are ye not carnal, and walk as men ?" 

On another occasion he said — "We make too little of the 
subject of Providence. My mind is by nature so intrepid and 
sanguine, and it has so often led me to anticipate God in his 
guidings to my severe loss, that perhaps I am now too sus- 
picious and dilatory in following him. However, this is a maxim 
with me — that, when I am waiting with a simple, child-like spirit 
for openings and guidings, and imagine I perceive them, God 
would either prevent the semblance of them from rising up be- 
fore me if these were not his leadings in reality, or he would 
preserve me from deeming them such; and therefore I always 
follow what appears to be my duty without hesitation." 

But the spring of all these Christian Virtues, and the master- 
grace of his mind was faith. His whole spirit and character 
Were a living illustration of that definition of the Apostle — Faith 
is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not 
seen! He appeared to me never to be exercised with doubts 
and fears. His magnanimity entered most strikingly into his 

K2 



132 CHARACTER OF REV. RICHARD CECIL. 



religious character. He was convinced and satisfied by all the 
divine declarations and promises — and he left himself, with un- 
suspecting confidence, in God's hands.* 

I quote Mr. Wilson's testimony to the patience of our 
friend under afflictions. "He was not only, in opposi- 
tion to all the tendencies of his natural dispositions, resigned, 
but cliearful under his trials. I have seen him repeatedly, at his 
Living in the country, return from his ride racked with pain; 
pale, emaciated, speechless. I have seen him throw himself all 
along upon his sofa, on his face, and cover his forehead with his 
hands; and there, without an expression of complaint, endure the 
paroxysm of his disorder: and I have been astonished to ob- 
serve him rise up in an instant, with his wonted dignity, and en- 
ter upon conversation with cheerfulness and vigour. He has 
often acknowledged to me, that the anguish he felt was like a 
dagger plunged into his side, and that through a whole summer 
he has not had two nights free from tormenting pain. Such were 
his sufferings for ten or twelve years previous to his last illness. 
And yet this was the man, or rather this was the Christian, from 
whose lips I never heard a murmuring word." 

It is almost needless to add, that Mr. Cecil possessed re- 
markable decision of character. When he went to 
Oxford he had made a resolution of restricting himself to a quar- 
ter of an hour daily, in playing on the violin ; on which instru- 
ment he greatly excelled, and of which he was extravagantly 
fond: but he found it impracticable to adhere to his determi- 
nation ; and had so frequently to lament the loss of time in this 
fascinating amusement, that, with the noble spirit which charac- 
terized him through life, he cut his strings, and never afterward 
replaced them. He studied for a painter; and, after he had 

* Mr. Wilson justly remarks of our friend, that " the determination and grandeur of his 
mind displayed his faith to peculiar advantage. This divine principle quite realized and 
substantiated to him the things which are not seen and eternal. It was absolutely like 
another sense. The things of time were as nothing. Every thing that came before him 
was referred to a spiritual standard. His one great object was fixed, and this object en- 
grossed his whole soul. Here his foot stood immoveable, as on a rock. His hold on the 
truths of the Scriptures was so firm, that he acted on them boldly and unreservedly. He 
went all lengths, and risked all consequences, on the word aud promise of God." 



PERSONAL. 



133 



changed his object, retained a fondness and a taste for the art ; 
he was once called to visit a sick lady, in whose room there was 
a paintiug which so strongly attracted his notice, that he found 
his attention diverted from the sick person, and absorbed by the 
painting : from that moment he formed the resolution of mor- 
tifying a taste, which he found so intrusive, and so obstructive 
to him in his nobler pursuits ; and determined never afterward 
to frequent the Exhibition. 

Nor was his intrepid and inflexible firmness less 
conspicuous, whenever the interests of truth, and the honour of 
Christ were concerned. The world in arms would not have ap- 
palled him, while the glory of Christ was in his view. Nor do 1 
believe that he would have hesitated for a moment, after he had 
given to nature her just tribute of feeling and of tears, to go 
forth from his family, and join the "noble army of martyrs" who 
expired in the flames in Smithfield, had the honour of his Master 
called him to this sacrifice: nor would his knees have trembled, 
nor his look changed. 

Yet cannot I but add, that this firmness never degenerated into 
rudeness. He knew and observed all those decencies of life 
which render mutual intercourse agreeable; and he had that 
ease of manner, among all classes of society, which bespoke per- 
fect self-possession and a thorough knowledge of the world, 
His address in meeting the manners and habits of thinking of 
persons of rank, either when they were enquiring into religion or 
under affliction, was perhaps scarcely to be equalled. 

The associations in our friend's mind were often of a very 
humorous kind. He had a strong natural turn for associations 
of this nature, which threw a great vivacity and charm over his 
familiar conversation — employed as it was, in the main, like 
every faculty of his mind, for useful ends. He was fully aware, 
however, of the danger of possessing such a faculty, and the 
temptations to which it exposed him; prompted and supported 
as it was by a buoyancy of spirits, which even great and length- 
ened pain could scarcely subdue. I have looked at him, and 
listened to him, with astonishment — when, meeting with a few 



1 34 CHARACTER OF REV. RICHARD CECIL. 

other young men occasionally at his house, we have found him 
dejected and worne out with pain — stretched on his sofa, and de- 
clining to join in our conversation — till he caught an interest in 
what was passing — when the question of an enquiring or bur- 
dened conscience has roused him to an exertion of his great 
mind — he has risen from his sofa — he has forgot his suffering — 
and has left us nothing to do but to admire and treasure up 
most profound and impressive remarks on the Scripture, on the 
heart, and on the world ! 

The mention of his humour and his vivacity of spirits leads 
me to remark, that I am not writing a panegyric, but drawing a 
character. No character can be faithful, while the best original 
is such as he must be in the present state, if it carry no shades. 
I have no wish to conceal the shades of this extraordinary cha- 
racter. Sternness and Levity were the two constitutional evils 
which most severely exercised him. They seem to have been 
the necessary result, in an imperfect being, of the union of that 
masculine and original vigour with humour and an ardent fancy, 
which met in the structure of his mind. So far, indeed, had 
grace triumphed over these constitutional enemies, that the very 
opposite features were the most prominent in his character ; and 
no one could approach him without feeling himself with a most 
tender and serious mind. I speak of those occasional ebul- 
litions which tended to remind him, that, though he was invested 
with a new and triumphant nature, he was yet at home in the 
body, and subject to the recurrence of his constitutional in- 
firmities. 

Yet, though Mr. Cecil felt occasionally temptations to levity, 
through the buoyancy and spring of his animal spirits, his pre- 
vailing temper was of a quite opposite description. A sensibility 
of spirit, with his view of human nature and of the world, threw 
a cast of melancholy over his mind. He was far more dis- 
posed to weep over the guilt and misery of man, than to smile 
at his follies. " I have," said he, " a salient principle in me. 
My spirits never sink. Yet I have a strong dash of melancholy. 
It is a high and exquisite feeling. When I first wake in the 



PERSONAL. 



135 



morning, I could often weep with pleasure. The holy calm— 
the silence— the freshness— thrill through my soul. At such 
moments I should feel the presence of any person to be intru- 
sion and impertinence, and common affairs nauseous. The still- 
ness of an empty house is paradise to me. The man who has 
never felt thus, cannot be made to understand what I mean. 

"Hookers dying thought," he added, "is congenial to my 
spirit. 'I am going to leave a world disordered, and a church 
disorganized, for a world and a church where every angel, and 
every rank of angel, stand before the throne in the very post 
God has assigned them/ I am obliged habitually to turn my eye 
from the wretched disorders of the world and the church, to the 
beauty, harmony, meekness, and glory of the better world/ 7 

On another occasion, he said — " I have been long in the habit 
of viewing every thing around me as in a state of alienation. 
I have no hold on my dearest comforts. My children must se- 
parate from me. One has his lot cast in one place, and another 
elsewhere^ It may be my particular leading, but I have never 
leaned toward my comforts without finding them give way. A 
sharp warning has met me — ' These are aliens, and as an alien 
live thou among them/ We may use our comforts by the way. 
We may take up the pitcher to drink, but the moment we begin 
to admire, God will in love dash it to pieces. But I feel no 
such alienation from the Church. I am united to Christ and to 
all his glorified and living members by an indissoluble bond. 
Here my mind can centre and sympathize, without suspicion 
or fear/' 

" I feel," he would say, " a congeniality with the character of 
Jeremiah. I seem to understand him. I could approach him, 
and feel encouraged to familiarity. It is not so with Elijah or 
Ezekiel. There is a rigour and severity about them which seem 
to repel me to a distance, and excite reverence rather than sym- 
pathy and love." 

In a very interesting case on which I consulted him, he gave 
me a striking view of this feature in his character—" I should 
have fallen myself into an utterly different mode of conducting 



136 



CHARACTER OF REV. RICHARD CECIL. 



the affair. But you have not the melancholy in your constitu- 
tion which I have, and therefore to look for my mode of the 
thing in you, would be expecting what ought not to be expected. 
This is a strong alterative in your dispensation. Now I have 
long been in the habit of viewing every thing of that aspect 
rather in a melancholy light. You are standing on the justice, 
the reason, the truth of your cause. I should have heard God 
saying — * Son of man follow me/ It would have led me into a 
speculative— mystical sort of way. I should have seen in it the 
flood that is sweeping over the earth — the utter bankruptcy of 
all human affairs. Most men, if they had stood by and com- 
pared our conduct, would have commended yours as rational, 
but condemned mine as enthusiastic — as connecting things to- 
gether which had no proper connection ; but this is my way of 
viewing every alterative in my dispensation/' 

"The heart, "said he, "must be divorced from its idols. 
Age does a great deal in curing the man of his frenzy; but, if 
God has a special work for a man, he lakes a shorter and 
sharper course with him. Stand ready for it. I have been in 
both schools. Bleeding and cauterizing have done much for me, 
and age has done much also— Caw I any longer taste what I eat 
or what I drink?" 

Though the Memoir of Mr. Cecil's life, and the Letters which 
are subjoined, bear ample testimony to the tenderness of his 
relative affections, yet I cannot but add here what a 
friend wrote on visiting him, many years before his decease, at a 
time when he was expecting the death of Mrs. Cecil: — "Mrs. 
Cecil was ill. I called on Mr. Cecil. I found him in his study, 
sitting over his bible in great sorrow. His tears fell so fast, 
that he could utter only broken sentences. He said, • Christians 
do well to speak of the grace, love and goodness of God; but 
we must remember that he is a holy and jealous God. Judg- 
ment must begin at the house of God. This severe stroke is 
but a farther call to me to arise and shake myself. My hope is 
still firm in God. He, who sends the stroke, will bear me up 
under it: and I have no doubt but if I saw the whole of his 



PERSONAL, 



137 



design I should say, ' Let her be taken ! ' Yet, while there is life, 
J cannot help saying, ' Spare her another year, that I may be a 
little prepared for her loss!' I know I have higher ground of 
comfort : but I shall deeply feel the taking away of the dying 
lamp. Her excellence as a wife and a mother, I am obliged to 
keep out of sight, or I should be overwhelmed. All I can do 
is, to go from text to text, as a bird from spray to spray. Our 
Lord said to his disciples, Where is your Faith ? God has given 
her to be my comfort these many years, and shall I not trust 
him for the future? This is only a farther and more expensive 
education for the work of the ministry: it is but saying more 
closely, * Will you pay the price?' If she should die, I shall re- 
quest all my friends never once to mention her name to me. I 
can gather no help from what is called friendly condolence. 
Job's friends understood grief better, when they sat down and 
spake not a word'." 

Our departed friend was, at once, a public and a retired 
man. While his sacred office, exercised for many years in a con- 
spicuous sphere, brought him much before the world, his turn of 
mind was retired — he courted solitude — he held converse there 
with God, and his own great spirit mingled with the mighty 
dead : he had such a practical knowledge and deep impression of 
the nothingness of the whole world, compared with spiritual and 
eternal realities, and he had so deeply felt, and so thoroughly 
despised its lying pretensions to meet the wants and to satisfy 
the longings of the immortal soul, that it was no sacrifice to him 
to turn away from the shows and the pursuits of life, and to 
shut out all the splendour and seductions of the world. 

Yet this retired spirit was not unsocial, morose, or repulsive. 
No one called him from his retirement to ask spiritual counsel, 
but he was met with tenderness and urbanity. No congenial 
mind encountered his without eliciting sparks both of benevo- 
lence and wisdom. Not a child in his family could carry its 
little complaints to him, but he would stop the career of his 
mind to listen and relieve. 

His study was his favourite retreat. His station exposed him 



138 CHARACTER OF REV. RICHARD CECIL. 

to constant interruptions, some necessary, and others arising from 
the injudiciousness of those who applied to him. It was not un- 
usual with him to make use of his power of abstraction on these 
occasions. Time was too valuable to be lavished away on the 
inconsideration of some of those who thought it necessary to call 
on him. It was generally his practice, not immediately to obey 
a summons from his study, but when he knew he bad to do with 
a person who would occupy much of his time by a long conver- 
sation before the business was brought forward, rather than hurt 
their feelings he would carry down in his mind the train of 
thought which he was pursuing in his study, and, while that 
which was beside the purpose played on his ear, his mind was 
following the subject on which it had entered before. 

Some men are at home in society : the wide world is their 
dwelling-place : they are known and read of all men : they have 
a peculiar talent for improving mixed society. But this was not 
the character of Mr. Cecil. He unfolded himself, indeed, to his 
friends; but those friends could not but feel, that, when they 
broke in on his retirement for any other objects than what were 
connected with his high calling, they were intruders on inesti- 
mable time. I had, indeed, the privilege and happiness of free 
access to him at all times, for a considerable course of years, 
while I was his assistant in the ministry ; but, for the reasons just 
assigned, though I was a diligent observer of his mind and 
habits, I feel myself not prepared to speak fully of his more 
domestic and retired character. 

" Retirement," he said, " is my grand ordinance. Considera- 
tions govern me. Death is a mighty consideration with me. 
The utter vanity of every thing under the sun is another. If a 
man wishes to influence my mind, he must assign considerations : 
and, if he assigns one or two which will weigh well, I seem im- 
patient to stop him if he is proceeding to assign more. He has 
given me a Consideration, and that suffices. The " Night 
Thoughts" is a great book with me, notwithstanding its glaring 
imperfections ; it realizes Death and Vanity. And, because this 



PERSONAL. 



139 



is the frame and habit of my own mind, my ministry partakes of 
it ; and must partake of it, if I would preach naturally and from 
my heart." 

In surveying the Personal Character of Mr. Cecil, it remains 
to speak somewhat more fully of his intellectual powers. 

His imagination was not so much of the playful and ele- 
gant, as bold, inventive, striking, and instinctively judicious and 
discriminating. 

His taste in the sister arts of Painting, Poetry, and Music 
was refined, and his judgment learned. In his younger days he 
had studied and excelled in Painting and Music ; and though he 
laid them aside that he might devote all his powers to his work, 
yet the savour of them so far remained, that I have been witness 
innumerable times, both in public and private, to the felicity of 
his illustrations drawn from these subjects, and to the superiority 
that his intimate knowledge of them gave him over most persons 
with whom they happened to be brought forward. His taste, 
when young, was for Italian music ; but, in his latter years, he 
was fond of the German style, or rather the softer Moravian. 
Anthems, or any pieces wherein the words were re-iterated, he 
disliked, for all public worship especially, as they sacrificed the 
real spirit of devotion too much to the music. His feelings on 
this subject were exquisite. " Pure, spiritual, sublime devotion," 
he would say, " should be the soul of public music/' He often 
lamented the introduction of any other style of architecture in 
places of worship, beside that which was so peculiarly appro- 
priate, and which, because it was so, called up associations best 
suited to the purposes of meeting. He said most strikingly — 
? I never enter a Gothic church, without feeling myself im- 
pressed with something of this idea — ' Within these walls has 
been resounded, for centuries, by successive generations, " Thou 
art the King of Glory, O Christ V ' The very damp that trickles 
down the walls, and the unsightly green that moulders upon the 
pillars, are far more pleasing to me from their associations, than 
the trim, finished, classic, heathen piles of the present fashion." 



140 



CHARACTER OF REV. RICHARD CECIL. 



His powers of comparison, analogy, and judgment have 
been rarely equalled. These had been exercised so long and 
with so much energy on all the conditions and relations around 
him — on the word of God — on his own mind — on the history, 
opinions, passions, prejudices, and motives of men in every age, 
and of every character and station — on moral causes and effects 
—on every subject that can come within the grasp of a philoso- 
sophic mind — that the result was a wisdom so prominent and 
commanding, that every man felt himself with a mind of the very 
first order both in capability and acquirement. In some cases, 
wherein my wishes, perhaps, formed my opinions ; and, trying to 
hide the truth from myself, I have asked his opinion as a confir- 
mation of my own — he has unmasked my heart to itself, by his 
wise and searching replies. His decisions were more according 
to circumstances than in most men : and, when he gave them, it 
would generally be with a declaration that other circumstances 
might wholly change the aspect of the thing ; and he did this in 
such a manner — if I may judge by my own case—as often to 
make a man look about him, and bethink himself what a treache- 
rous and blind party he had to transact with in his bosom. 

To those who did not know him intimately, he might some- 
times appear to want a quickness of perception. The appearance 
of this faculty is often assumed, w here God has not given it. 
Where the mind does decide rapidly, its conclusions are gene- 
rally partial and defective, in proportion to their rapidity. In- 
tuition is not a faculty of the present condition of being, whatever 
it may be of that toward which we are advancing. He affected 
no such quality, yet he possessed more of it than most men. 
When he did not fully understand what was addressed to him, 
he said so ; and his mind w as so familiar with the difficulty of 
discovering truth through the veils and shades thrown over her 
by prejudice and self-love, that he did not hastily bring himself 
to think that he possessed your full meaning. 

His good sense and wisdom led him to avoid all peculi- 
arity and eccentricity. He was decidedly adverse to 



MINISTERIAL. 



141 



every thing of this nature. " When any thing peculiar appears," 
he would say, " in a religious man's manners, or dress, or furni- 
ture, this is supposed by the world to constitute his religion. A 
clergyman indeed is allowed by common consent, and indeed it 
is but decent in him, to have every thing about him plain and 
substantial rather than ornamental and fashionable." 



The personal character of Mr. Cecil had a manifest 
influence on his MINISTERIAL. We find him frequently 
accounting for those views and feelings which prevailed in his 
Ministry, by a reference to his constitution and his early history. 

His sentiments on the ministerial office are 
scattered through his writings, as this was ever present to his 
mind. Wherever he was, and whatever was his employment, he 
was always the Christian Minister. He was ever on the watch to 
do the ivork of an Evangelist, and to make full proof of his 
Ministry. 

I have collected together his thoughts on this subject in some 
sections of his "Remains:" and I think it impossible that any 
young Minister should read these thoughts without imbibing a 
higher estimation of his sacred office. More will be found on 
these points in the following views of his Ministerial Character, 
gathered from his own lips. 

These views were most striking and sublime. " A Minister is 
a Levite. In general he has, and he is to have, no inheritance 
among his brethren. Other men are not Levites. They must 
recur to means, from which a Minister has no right to expect 
any thing. Their affairs are all the little transactions of this 
world. But a Minister is called and set apart for a high and 
sublime business. His transactions are to be between the living 
and the dead—between heaven and earth; and he must stand as 
with wings on his shoulders. He must look, therefore, for every 



142 



CHARACTER OF REV. RICHARD CECIL. 



thing in his affairs to be done for him and before his eyes. I 
am at a loss to conceive how a Minister, with right feelings, can 
plot and contrive for a Living. If he is told that there is such 
a thing for him if he will make such an application, and that it 
is to be so obtained, and so only, all is well — but not a step 
farther. It is in vain, however, to put any man on acting in this 
manner, if he be not a Levite in principle and in character. 
These must be the expressions of a nature communicated to him 
from God — a high principle of Faith begetting Simplicity. He 
must be an eagle towering toward heaven on strong pinions. 
The barn-door hen must continue to scratch her grains out of 
the dunghill/' 

He thought that the life of a Minister, with respect to worldly 
affairs, ought to be, peculiarly above that of other men, a life of 
faith. It was his maxim, to lay out no money unnecessarily — 
and, with this principle, he regarded his purse as in God's hand, 
and found it like the barrel of meal and the cruse of oil. He 
confessed that he could advise this conduct in no case but in that 
of a Christian Minister, who was a wise and prudent, as well as 
a right-hearted manager of his affairs. His habit was, to be the 
child of simplicity and faith— acting as a servant of God, on 
those principles which he judged most suitable to his character 
and station. 

He had exalted ideas of ministerial authority— not the autho- 
rity which results merely from office, but from office united with 
personal character — not the claims of priestly arrogance ; but the 
claims of priestly dignity. " I never chuse to forget that I am a 
priest, because I would not deprive myself of the right to dic- 
tate in my ministerial capacity. I cannot allow a man, therefore, 
to come to me merely as a friend, on his spiritual affairs, because 
I should have no authority to say to him, ' Sir, you must do so 
and so.' I cannot suffer my best friends to dictate to me in 
any thing which concerns my ministerial duties. I have often 
had to encounter this spirit ; and there would be no end of it, if 
I did not check and resist it. I plainly tell them that they know 
nothing of the matter. I ask them if it is decent that a man, im- 



MINISTERIAL. 143 

inersed in other concerns, should pretend to know my affairs and 
duties, better than myself, who, as they ought to believe, make 
them the study of my life. I have been disgusted — deeply dis- 
gusted — at the manner in which some men of flaming religious 
profession talk of certain preachers. They estimate them just as 
Garrick would have estimated the worth of players, or as Handel 
would have ranged an orchestra. ' Such an one is clever— he is 
a master' — Clever! — a master! — Worth and character and dig- 
nity are of no weight in the scale/' 

These views are just and noble; and they are suited to his own 
great mind, and the entire hold which his office had on his heart. 
But — listening with his whole soul to that injunction, Meditate on 
these things, give thyself wholly to them — it may be doubted 
whether he did not sometimes challenge to his office more respect 
than the party concerned could be expected to allow due. 

Mr. Cecil's preparation and training for this ex- 
alted office have been already spoken of in the view of his 
Personal Character, and may be further traced in the Memoir of 
his Life. This was, as has been seen, of no common kind. 

His qualifications for the discharge of the mi- 
nistry were peculiar. The great natural powers which God 
had given him, were moulded and matured by the training and 
discipline through which he was led, and were consecrated by 
grace to the service of his Master. It will not be requisite to 
recapitulate what has been said on this subject. I shall here 
speak only of those qualifications which were more appropriate 
to him as a public teacher. 

His learning consisted more in the knowledge of other 
men's ideas, than in an accurate acquaintance with the niceties of 
the languages. Yet he was better acquainted with these, than 
many who devote a disproportionate time to this acquisition. His 
incessant application, chiefly by candle-light, when at Oxford, to 
the study of Greek, of which he was enthusiastically fond, 
brought on an almost total loss of sight for six months. He had 
determined to become a perfect master of the niceties of that re- 
fined and noble language. The counsel, however, which he 



144 CHARACTER OF REV. RICHARD CECIL. 

received from Dr. Bacon, and which is recorded in his " Remains" 
(pp. 121, 122), put him on proportioning his attention more ac- 
cording to the future utility of his pursuits than he had been 
accustomed to. " I was struck with his advice/' he said. " I 
had an unsettled sort of religion, but enough to make me see and 
choose the truth which he set before me." 

So solid and extensive was Mr. Cecil's real learning, that there 
were no important points, in morals or religion, on which he had 
not read the best authors, and made up his mind on the most 
mature deliberation ; nor could any topic be started in history or 
philosophy, on subjects of art or of science, with which he was 
not found more generally acquainted than other men. But while 
he could lay these parts of learning under contribution to aid 
him in his one object of impressing truth on man, he was a master 
in the learning which is more peculiarly appropriate to his pro- 
fession. He was so much in the habit of daily reading the Scrip- 
tures in the originals, that, as he told me, he went to this employ 
naturally and insensibly. He limited himself to no stated quan- 
tity: but, as his time allowed, he read one or two, and sometimes 
five or six chapters daily. 

Mr. Cecil had the power of exciting and preserving 
attention above most men. All his effort was directed, first 
to engage attention, and then to repay it— to allure curiosity, and 
then to gratify it. 

Till the attention was gained he felt that nothing could be ef- 
fected on the mind. Sometimes he would have recourse to un- 
usual methods, suited indeed to his auditory, to awaken and fix 
their minds. " I was once preaching," he said, " a Charity Ser- 
mon, where the congregation was very large, and chiefly of the 
lower order. I found it impossible, by my usual method of 
preaching, to gain their attention. It was in the afternoon, and 
my hearers seemed to meet nothing in my preaching, which was 
capable of rousing them out of the stupefaction of a full dinner. 
Some lounged, and some turned their backs on me. 'I must 
have attention/ I said to myself. « I will be heard.' 
The case was desperate; and, in despair, I sought a desperate 



MINISTERIAL. 



145 



retnedy. I exclaimed aloud, f Last Monday morning a man was 
hanged at Tyburn' — instantly the face of things was changed ! 
All was silence and expectation! I caught their ear, and retained 
it through the Sermon." This anecdote leads me to observe that 
Mr. Cecil had, in an unusual degree, the talent of adapting his 
ministry to his congregation. While he was, for instance, preach- 
ing on the same day at Lothbury, at St. John's morning and after- 
noon, and at Spitalfields in the evening— he found four congre- 
gations at these places, in many respects, quite distinct from one 
another; and yet he adapted his preaching, with admirable skill, 
to meet their habits of thinking. 

But, when he had gaiued the attention, he was ever on the 
watch not to weary. He seemed to have continually before his 
eyes the sentiments of our great critic and moralist:''* "Tedi- 
ousness is the most fatal of all faults: negligences or errors are 
single and local, but tediousness pervades the whole : other faults 
are censured, and forgotten; but the power of tediousness pro- 
pagates itself. He that is weary the first hour, is more weary the 
second ; as bodies forced into motion, contrary to their tendency, 
pass more and more slowly through every successive interval of 
space." Mr. Cecil would say, "You have a certain quantity of 
attention to work on: make the best use of it while it lasts. The 
iron will cool, and then nothing, or worse than nothing, is done. 
If a preacher will leave unsaid all vain repetitions, and watch 
against undue length in his entrance and width in his discussion, 
he may limit a written sermon to half an hour, and one from notes 
to forty minutes; and this time he should not allow himself to 
exceed, except on sjpecial occasions." 

His power of illustration was great and versatile. His 
topics were chiefly taken from Scripture and from life. His 
manner of illustrating his subjects by Scripture examples* was 
the most finished I have ever heard. They were never intro- 
duced violently or abruptly; but his matter was so moulded in 
preparation for them, by a few well-turned sentences, that the 



VOL. I. 



Lives of the Poets, vol. III. p. 35, 

L 



146 



CHARACTER OF REV. RICHARD CECIL. 



illustration seemed to be placed in the Scripture almost for the 
sake of the doctrine. The general features of the character or 
history were left in the back-ground, and those only which were 
appropriate to the matter in hand were brought forward, and so 
were presented with great force to the mind. His talent in dis- 
criminating the striking features and connecting them with his 
matter was so peculiar, that the histories of Abraham, of Jacob, 
of David, and of St Paul, seemed in his hands to be ever new, 
and to be exhaustless treasures of illustration. 

The turn both of his mind and of his experience seemed to 
lead him to this method. What he did, therefore, with ease and 
feeling, it was natural should be done frequently ; and, accord- 
ingly I have scarcely ever heard a sermon from him in which 
there were not repeated exercises of this peculiar talent, and in 
some sermons almost the entire subject has been treated in this 
manner. 

This talent of illustrating his subjects, and particularly of 
seizing incidents for improvement, gave an edge to his wise ad- 
monitions in private; and fixed them deep in the memory. Rid- 
ing with a friend in a very windy day, the dust was so trouble- 
some, that his companion wished they were at their journey's end 
where they might ride in the fields free from dust : and this wish 
he repeated more than once while on the road. When they 
reached the fields, the flies so teized his friend's horse, that he 
could scarcely keep his seat on the saddle. On his bitterly com- 
plaining, "Ah! Sir," said Mr. Cecil, "when you were in the 
road the dust was your only trouble, and all your anxiety was to 
get into the fields : you forgot that the fly was there ! Now this 
is a true picture of human life : and you will find it so in all the 
changes you make in future. We know the trials of our present 
situation ; but the next will have trials, and perhaps worse, 
though they may be of a different kind." 

At another time, the same friend told him he should esteem it 
a favour, if he would tell him of any thing which he might in 
future see in his conduct which he thought improper. " Well, 
Sir !" he said, " many a man has told the watchman to call him 



MINISTERIAL. 



147 



early in the morning, and has then appeared very anxious for his 
coming early ; but the watchman has come before he has been 
ready for him ! I have seen many people very desirous of being 
told their faults ; but I have seen very few who were pleased 
when they received the information. However, I like to receive 
an invitation, and I have no reason to suppose you will be dis- 
pleased till I see it is so. I shall therefore remember that you 
have asked for it," 

His style, particularly in preaching and in free conversation, 
was easy and natural. If he ever laboured his expression, it was 
in search of emphasis, rather than precision— of words which 
would penetrate the soul, rather than round his period and float 
in the ear. He considered that vigorous conceptions would 
clothe themselves in the fittest expressions — 

Verbaque provisam rem non invito, sequentur : 

Or, as Milton has admirably said — " True eloquence I find to be 
none, but the serious and hearty love of truth: and that, whose 
mind soever is fully possessed with a fervent desire to know good 
things, and with the dearest charity to infuse the knowledge of 
them into others, when such a man would speak, his 
words, like so many nimble and airy servitors trip about him at 
command, and, in well-ordered files, as he would wish, fall aptly 
into their own places." 

His written style has less ease than that of his conversation or 
preaching. He excelled rather in strong intuitive sense, than in 
a train of argument ; and more in the liveliness of his thoughts, 
than in their arrangement. He would put down his thoughts as 
they arose— often at separate times, and as suggested by the oc- 
casion — and was not always nice in rejecting obsolete expressions, 
or antithesis in sense. This occasioned a want of flow and ease 
in many parts of his writings, which the warmth of conversation 
or preaching swept away. 

Impression was the leading feature of his ministry. Per- 
haps the information conveyed by it to the mind was not 

L2 



US CHARACTER OF REV. RICHARD CECIL 

sufficiently systematic and minute. He had seen so much the 
evil of spending the preacher's time in doctrinal statements, that 
possibly there was some deficiency in this respect in his own 
practice. When, indeed, he had to introduce religion to his con- 
gregation at St. John's or Chobham, on his first entering on those 
charges, he dealt with them as a people needing information on 
first principles : but my remark applies to the habit and course 
of his ministry. For, however true it is, that, when a man be- 
comes a serious reader of God's word he must grow in the know- 
ledge of the truth ; yet many will still read the Bible with an 
indiscriniinating mind, unless their Minister's statements give 
them, not only a lucid general view of doctrines, but somewhat 
of a systematic and connected view ; and not a few — buried in 
the cares of the world — will derive all their notions of the system 
of divine truth from w hat they hear in public. 

Mr. Cecil wrote and spoke to mankind. He dealt with the 
business and bosoms of men. An energy of truth prevailed in 
his ministry, which roused the conscience ; and a benevolence 
reigned in his spirit, w hich seized the heart : yet I much question 
whether the prevailing effect of his preaching was not determina- 
tion grounded on conviction and admiration, rather than 
on emotion. When in perfect health and spirits, and master 
of his subject, his eloquence was finished and striking: but 
though there was often a tenderness which awakened correspon- 
ding feelings in the hearer, yet his eloquence wanted that vehement 
passion which overpowers and carries away the minds of others. 

— si vis me flere, dotendum est 
Prirnum ipsi tibi 

This is the great secret for getting hold of the heart. But as not 
much of the impassioned entered into the composition of his na- 
ture, and he was at the same time pre-eminent in genius and 
judgment, it could not but follow that admiration should af- 
fect the hearer more frequently than strong feeling. A 
friend has told me that he has often lost the benefit of the truth 
which Mr. Cecil has uttered, in admiration of the exquisite man- 



MINISTERIAL. 



U9 



tier in which it was conveyed. And I have again and again de- 
tected this iu myself ; and found I have been watching eagerly 
for what would fail next from him, not in the spirit of a new- 
horn babe that desires the sincere milk of the word that I might 
grow thereby y but for the gratification of a mental voluptuous- 
ness. I desire no one will suppose that I impute to him any of 
the studied artifices of eloquence. No man sought more than he 
did, that his hearers' faith should not stand in the ivtsdom of men, 
but in the power of God. No man more sincerely aimed to have 
his speech and his preaching not with enticing words of man's 
wisdom, but in demonstration of the spirit and of power: yet, 
moreover, because the preacher was wise, he still taught the people 
knowledge ; yea, he gave good heed, and sought out, and 
set in order the messages of divine mercy. The preacher 
sought to find out acceptable words, yet that which was 
written was upright, even words of truth. He could not but 
treat his subjects in this exquisite manner while his taste, his 
genius, and his nature remained ; but this could not but be sanc- 
tified to his master's honour, while he retained the perfect inte- 
grity, the deep conviction, and the singleness of eye which his 
Master had given him. That it was the farthest possible from 
trick and artifice might be seen in his most familiar conversation ; 
where his manner, when he was fully called out, was exactly what 
it was in the pulpit. His mind grasped every subject firmly ; 
his imagination clothed it with images — embodied it — gave it life 
—called up numberless associations and illustrations: it was rea- 
lized: it was present to him: his taste and judgment enabled 
him to seize it in the most striking points of view. 

" His apprehensions of religion/' Mr. Wilson most justly ob- 
serves, " were grand and elevated. His fine powers, go- 
verned by divine grace, were exactly calculated to sieze all the 
grandeur of the Gospel. The stupendous magnitude of the ob- 
jects which the Bible proposes to man, the incomparable sublimity 
of eternal pursuits, the astonishing scheme of redemption by an 
Incarnate Mediator, the native grandeur of a rational and im- 
mortal being stamped with the impress of God, the fall of this 



150 CHARACTER OF REV. RICHARD CECIL. 



being into sin and poverty and meanness and guilt, his recovery 
by grace to more than his original dignity in the love and service 
of his Creator, filled all his soul. He seemed often to labour 
with an imagination occupied with his noble theme. He felt, 
and he taught, that no other subject was worthy the consideration 
of man. In comparison with it, he led his auditors to condemn 
and trample on all the petty objects of this lower world. Its 
meanness, its uncertainty, its deceit, its vanity, its vexation, its 
nothingness, he set fully in their view. He even made them 
look down with a generous concern on those who were buried in 
its interests, and who forgot, amidst the toys of children, the 
real business of life/' 

Some of his printed sermons are perfect models of simplicity, 
vivacity, and effect. That, for instance, on the " Power of 
Faith/' 

His countenance, though not modelled altogether after 
the artificial rules of beauty, beamed, in animated conversation 
and in the pulpit, with the beauty of a great and noble mind. 
Dignity and benevolence were strongly pourtrayed there. The 
variety of its expression was admirable : nor could any one feel 
the full force of the soul which he threw into his discourses, if 
this expression was concealed from him by distance or situation. 
His action was graceful and forcible: latterly, owing perhaps 
to his increasing infirmities and almost uninterrupted pain, it dis- 
covered, I think, some constraint and want of ease. 

There was a familiarity and an authority in his man- 
ner, which to strangers sometimes appeared dogmatism. His 
manner was, in truth, like that of no other man. It was altoge- 
ther original : and because it was original, it sometimes offended 
those who had no other idea of manner than of that to which they 
had been accustomed. Yet even the prejudiced could not hear 
him with indifference. There was a dignity and command, a deci- 
sion and energy, a knowledge of the heart and the world, an 
uprightness of mind and a desire to do good, and all this united 
with a tenderness and affection, which few could witness without 
some favourable impressions. 



MINISTERIAL. 



His most striking sermons were generally those, which he 
preached from very short texts, such as — My soul hangeth on thee 
— All my fresh springs are in thee — O Lord! teach me thy way— 
As thy day is, so shall thy strength he. In these sermons, the 
whole subject had probably struck him at once : and what comes 
in this way is generally found to be more natural and forcible, 
than what the mind is obliged to excogitate by its own laborious 
efforts. As the subject grows out of the state of the mind at the 
time, there is that degree of affinity between them which occasions 
the mind to seize it forcibly, and to clothe it with vivid colours. 
A train of the most natural associations presents itself, as one link 
draws with it its kindred links. The attention is engaged — the 
mind is concentrated — scripture and life present themselves with- 
out effort, in the most natural relations which they bear to the 
subject, that has full possession of the man, and composition be- 
comes easy, and even interesting. 

It was a frequent, and a very useful method with him, to open 
and explain his subject in a very brief manner, and then to draw 
inferences from it ; which inferences formed the great body of the 
sermon, and were rather matters of address to the consciences 
and hearts of his hearers, than of discussion ; so that the whole 
subject was a kind of application. This seems to me to have 
been his most effective manner of preaching. Take an instance : 
Matt, xviii. 20. I. Explain the words. II. Raise from them two 
or three remarks: Contemplate 1. Tire Glory and Godhead 
of our Master : 2. The honour which He puts on his house and 
the assembly of His Saints: 3. The privilege of being one of 
Christ's servants whom He will meet: 4. The obligations lying 
on such servants — What manner of persons ought such to be! 

He was remarkably observant of character. When I have 
asked his opinion of a person, he has frequently surprised me with 
such a full and accurate delineation of his character, as he could 
only have obtained by very patient and penetrating observation. 
The reason of this appeared, when I learnt that it was his custom 
in his sermon notes, when he wished to describe a particular cha- 
racter, not to put down its chief features as they occurred to his 



H2 CHARACTER OF REV. RICHARD CECIL. 

mind from the general observations which he had made on men ; 
but he would put down the initial of some person's name, with 
whom he was well acquainted, and who stood in his mind as the 
representative of that class of characters. He had nothing to do 
then, when he came to enlarge on that part of his subject, but 
strongly to realize to himself the character of the person in ques- 
tion, and he would draw a much more vivid picture of a real cha- 
racter than he could otherwise do«* 

Mr. Cecil was not himself led to the knowledge of God 
through great terrors of conscience : his ministry did not, there- 
fore, so much abound in delineations of the working and malig- 
nity of sin, as in those topics which grew out of his course of 
experience; nor did he enter frequently or largely into the details 
of the spiritual conflict. He was himself drawn to God, and 
subdued by a sense of divine mercy and friendship: he was led, 
therefore, to detail largely the transactions of the believing mind 
with God, in the exercise of dependence and submission. 

He was more aware than most men of the difficulty of 

BRINGING DOWN THE TRUTH TO THE COMPREHENSION 
OF THE MASS OF HEARERS. 

A young Minister may leave College with the best theory in 
the world, and he make take with him into a country parish a 
determination to talk in the language of simplicity itself, but the 
actual capacity to make himself understood and felt is so far re- 
moved from his former habits, that it is only to be acquired by 
experience. Hear how wisely Mr. Cecil wrote to a young friend 
about to take orders ;— - I advised him, since he was so near his 
entrance into the ministry, to lay aside all other studies for the 
present, but the one I should now recommend to him. I would 
have him select some very poor and uninformed persons, and 
pay them a visit. His object should be to explain to them and 

* Lavater somewhere mentions an admirable practice of his own, which carried ouij 
friend's principle into constant use in his ministry. He fixed on certain persons in his 
congregation, whom he considered as representatives of the respective classes into which 
his bearers might be properly divided— amounting, as I recollect, to seven. In compos- 
ing his discourses, he kept each of these persons steadily in his eye ; and laboured so to 
mould his subjects as to meet the case of every one.-by which incomparable rule he ren- 
dered himself intelligible and interesting to all classes of his flock. 



MINISTERIAL. 153 

demonstrate to them the truth of the solar system. He should 
first of all set himself to make that system perfectly intelligible to 
them, and then he should demonstrate it to their full conviction 
against all that the followers of Tycho Brahe or any one else could 
say against it. He would tell me it was impossible; they would 
not understand a single term. Impossible to make them astro- 
nomers ! And shall it be thought an easy matter to make them 
understand redemption V 

He gave the following account of his habit of prepara- 
tion FOR THE PULPIT: — 

" I generally look into the portions of Scripture appointed by 
the church to be read in the services of the day. I watch, too, 
for any new light which may be thrown on passages in the course 
of reading, conversation, or prayer. I seize the occasions fur- 
nished by my own experience — my state of mind — my family oc- 
currences. Subjects taken up in this manner are always likely to 
meet the cases and wants of some persons in the congregation. 
Sometimes, however, I have no text prepared : and I have found 
this to arise generally from sloth : I go to work : this is the se- 
cret: make it a business: something will arise where least ex- 
pected. 

" It is important to begin preparation early. If it is driven oft 
late, accidents may occur which may prevent due attention to the 
subject. If the latter days of the week are occupied, and the 
mind driven into a corner, the sermon will usually be raw and 
undigested. Take time to reject what ought to be rejected, and 
to supply what ought to be supplied. 

" It is a favourite method with me to reduce the text to some 
point of doctrine. On that topic I enlarge, and then apply it. I 
like to ask myself — * What are you doing 1 — What is your aim V 

" I will not forestall my own views by first going to commen- 
tators. I talk over the subject to myself : I write down all that 
strikes me : and then I arrange what is written. After my plan 
is settled, and my mind has exhausted its stores, then I would 
turn to some of my great Doctors to see if I am in no error : but 
I find it necessary to reject many good things which the Doctors 



154 



CHARACTER OF REV. RICHARD CECIL. 



say : they will tell to no good effect in a sermon. In truth, to be 
effective, we must draw more from nature and less from the writ- 
ings of men : we must study the Book of Providence, the Book 
of Nature, the Heart of Man, and the Book of God : we must 
read the History of the World : we must deal with Matters of 
Fact before our eyes/' 

In respect to mechanical preparation, Mr. Cecil was in the 
habit of using eight quarto pages, on which he put down his main 
and subordinate divisions, with such hints as he thought requi- 
site. These notes, written in an open and legible manner, such 
as his eye could catch with ease, he put into one of the portable 
quarto Bibles, of which several editions were printed in the xviith 
century, in a good type, but, in consequence of the closeness and 
excellence of the paper, such as bind up in a very compact size. 
Of these editions there are some * which are printed page for 
page with one another ; and one of these editions Mr. Cecil was in 
the constant habit of using, both in public and in private, from the 
mechanical assistance afforded to him in turning to passages from 
the recollection of the part of the page in which they occurred. 

It will be interesting to hear Mr. Cecil's own account of 

HIS MANNER OF COMMENCING HIS MINISTRY; as it notices 

mistakes from which he was not only early but most effectually 
delivered, and his remarks on them may afford a serious caution 
to others. 

" I set out/' he said, " with levity in the pulpit. It was 
above two years before I could get the victory over it, though I 
strove under sharp piercings of conscience. My plan was wrong. 
I had bad counsellors. I thought preaching was only entering 
the pulpit and letting off a sermon. I really imagined this was 
trusting to God, and doing the thing cleverly. I talked with a 
wise and pious man on the subject. ' There is nothing/ said he, 
like appealing to facts/ We sat down, and named names. We 
found men in my habit disreputable. This first set my mind 
right. I saw such a man might sometimes succeed : but I saw, 
at the same time, that whoever would succeed in his general in- 

* I Lave compared four of these Bibles, viz. Field's, London, l6l8-.-Hayes's, Camb. 
l()70, and also that of 1677— and Buck's, Camb. without date. 



MINISTERIAL. 



155 



terpretations of Scripture, and would have his ministry that of a 
workman that needeth not to be ashamed — must be a laborious 
man. What can be produced by men who refuse this labour] — 
a few raw notions, harmless perhaps in themselves, but false as 
stated by them. What then should a young Minister do ?— His 
office says 'Go to your books. Go to retirement. Go to 
prayer/ — t No !' says the enthusiast, ' Go to preach. Go and 
be a witness !' — A witness !— -of what 1 — He don't know V 

Thus qualified by nature, education, and grace— enriched by 
his various manly acquisitions — and matured by experience, he ap- 
peared in the pulpit unquestionably as one of the first preachers— 
perhaps the very first preacher — of his time. 

He was sincerely attached to the church of 
England, both by principle and feeling — to her order and 
DECORUM. He entered into the spirit of those obligations, 
which lay on him as a clergyman ; and, looking at general conse- 
quences, would never break through the order and discipline of 
the Church, to obtain any partial, local, and temporary ends. 

In the more private exercise of his pastoral office, as a 
counsellor and friend, he manifested great faithfulness, 
tenderness, and wisdom. 

In proof of this I might appeal to what is said in the " Re- 
mains," on the subject of " Visiting death-beds :" pp. 89, 95. I 
shall here subjoin a few more illustrations of this part of his 
character. 

An interview was contrived between him and a noble Lady, by 
some of her relations. She began to listen to the affairs of religion. 
Her life bad been gay and trifling. She knew that he understood 
her situation ; and she began to introduce her case by saying 
that she supposed he thought her a very contemptible and wicked 
creature. " No, Madam, I do not look at you in that view. I 
consider that you have been a wanderer ; pursuing happiness in 
a mistaken road — an immortal being, fluttering through the pre- 
sent short but important scene, without one serious concern for 
what is to come after it is passed by. And, while others know 
what is to happen to them, and wait for it, you are totally igno- 



156 



CHARACTER OF REV. RICHARD CECIL. 



rant of the subject."—" But, Sir, is it possible to arrive at any 
certainty with respect to a future condition !" — " Why what little 
trifling scenes would occupy your Ladyship and myself, if we 
were confined to this small spot of a carpet, that is under our 
feet! The world is a little, mean, despicable scene in itself. But 
we must leave it : and can you suppose that we are left to step 
into another state, as into a dark abyss- -not knowing what awaits 
us there ? No— the next step I take from the world is not into a 
void that no one has explored— a fathomless abyss — a chaos of 
clouds and darkness — but I know what it is — I am assured of it." 
He said to me in reporting this conversation, " I rested on this, 
and left it to work on her mind. I thought it better to defer the 
subject of this assurance to try her, and I have reason to believe 
that she feels anxious for our next occasion of meeting, that she 
may hear how we can make out the grounds of our assurance." 
This is one among many instances of the wise methods in w hich 
he accommodated his instructions to the character. 

" Many of my people," he said, u and especially females, talk 
thus to me — * I am under continual distress of mind. I can lay 
hold of no permanent ground of peace. If I seem to get a little, 
it is soon gone again. I am out at sea, without compass or an- 
chor. My heart sinks. My spirit faints. My knees tremble. 
All is dark above, and all is horror beneath.' — * And pray what is 
your mode of life? — ' I sit by myself.' — In this small room, I 
suppose, and over your fire? — ' A considerable part of my time.' 
— * And what time do you go to bed?' — ' I cannot retire till two 
or three o'clock in the morning.' — ' And you lie late, I suppose, 
in the morning? — ' Frequently.' — ' And pray what else can you 
expect from this mode of life, than a relaxed and unstrung system 
— and, of course, a mind enfeebled, anxious, and disordered? I 
understand your case. God seems to have qualified me to un- 
derstand it, by especial dispensations. My natural disposition is 
gay, volatile, spirited. My nature would never sink. But I have 
sometimes felt my spirit absorbed in horrible apprehensions with- 
out any assignable natural cause. Perhaps it was necessary I 
should be suffered to feel this, that I might feel for others; for 



MINISTERIAL. 



15/ 



certainly, no man can have any adequate sympathy with others, 
who has never thus suffered himself. I can feel for you, there- 
fore, while I tell you that I think the affair with you is chiefly 
physical. I myself have brought on the same feelings by the 
same means. I have sat in my study till I have persuaded myself 
that the ceiling was too low to suffer me to rise and stand up- 
right : and air and exercise alone could remove the impression 
from my mind.' " 

His taking the charge of St. John's Chapel is the most 
important event of his Life, as it appears to have been the 
sphere for which he was peculiarly raised up and prepared by 
Providence. 

The circumstances attending his establishment of a serious and 
devout congregation in this place, mark the strength and simpli- 
city of his mind ; while they may shew the necessity under which 
such men will sometimes be brought, of acting for themselves, 
with perfect independence of the whole body of their brethren. 

These circumstances he related to me as follows — " When I 
married, I lived at a small house at Islington, situated in the 
midst of a garden ; for which I paid 14/. a year. My annual in- 
come was then only 80/. and, with this, I had to support myself, 
my wife, and a servant. I was then, indeed, Minister of St. John's, 
but I received nothing from the place for several of the earlier 
years. When I was sent thither, I considered that I was sent to 
the people of that place and neighbourhood. I thought it my 
duty, therefore, to adopt system and a style of preaching, which 
should have a tendency to meet their case. All, which they had 
heard before, was dry, frigid, and lifeless. A high, haughty, 
stalking spirit characterised the place. I was thrown among men 
of the world, men of business, men of reading, and men of thought. 
I began, therefore, with principles. I preached on the Divine 
Authority of the Sacred Scriptures. I dissected Saurin's Sermons. 
I took the sinews and substance of some of our most masterly 
writers. I preached on such texts as— If ye believe not Moses 
and the Prophets, neither will ye believe though one rose from the 
dead, I set myself to explain terms and phrases. My chief 



158 CHARACTER OF REV. RICHARD CECIL. 



object was under-ground work. But what was the consequence 
of this ? An outcry was raised against me throughout the religious 
world. It was said, that, at other places, I continued to preach 
the truth; but that, at St. John's, I was sacrificing it to my 
hearers. Even my brethren, instead of entering into my reasons; 
and plan, lay on their oars. My protectress turned her back on me. 
I had hesitated, at first, to enter on so great a risk ; but, with 
grandeur of spirit, she told me she would put her fortune on the 
issue ; if any benefit resulted from it, it should be mine, and she 
would bear me harmless of all loss. She heard me a few times, 
and then wholly withdrew herself, and even took away her 
servants. Some of them would now and then steal in ; but, as 
they reported that they got " no food," the report did but 
strengthen the prejudices of their mistress. She could not enter 
into my motives. I was obliged to regard her conduct as Huss 
did that of the man, who was heaping the faggots round him, 
O sancie simplicitas ! She could not calculate consequences, and 
was unmoved even when I placed my conduct in its strongest 
light — * Can you attribute any but the purest motives to me 1 
Ought not the very circumstances to which I voluntarily subject 
myself by adhering to the plan you condemn, to gain me some 
credit for my intentions 1 Had I preached here, in the manner I 
preached elsewhere, you know that the place would have been 
crowded by the religious world. I should then have obtained 
from it an income of 200/. or 300/. a year ; whereas I now sit 
down with little or no advantage from it, though I have a family 
rising up about me. God sent me hither to preach to this people, 
and to raise a congregation in, this place; and I am proceeding in 
that system and way, which seems to me best adapted under God 
to meet the states of this people ; and, while I am doing this, I 
bring on myself temporal injury. I can have no possible motive 
to sacrifice the truth to a few blind pharisees, who will never 
while I live become my friends/ 

" I laboured under this desertion of my friends for a long time: 
it was about seven years, before affairs began to wear such an 
aspect, that my protectress and others allowed that matters had 



MINISTERIAL. 



certainly turned out as they could not have foreseen. Several 
witnesses rose up of undoubted and authentic character, to testify 
the power of the grace of God. One circumstance will place the 
prejudice which existed against me in a strong light. A converted 
Jewess, who had been driven from her father's house on account 
of her sentiments, and was a woman of great simplicity and devo- 
tion, refused to accompany a friend to St. John's, because, as she 
said, she could not worship there spiritually, and rather chose to 
spend the afternoon among her friend's books ; in which employ- 
ment, I doubt not, she worshipped God in the spirit, and was 
accepted of him. For my own satisfaction, I wrote down at large 
the reasons on which I had formed my conduct, for I was almost 
driven into my own breast for support and justification. One 
friend, indeed, stood by me. He saw my plan and entered fully 
into it ; and said such strong things on the subject, as greatly 
confirmed my own mind. ' The Church of Christ/ said he, 
* must sometimes be sacrificed for Christ/ A certain brother 
preached a Charity Sermon ; and in such a style, that he seemed 
to say to me f Were I here, you should see how I would do the 
thing/ What good he did, I know not ; but some of the evil 1 
know, as several persons forsook the Chapel, and assigned his 
sermon as the reason ; and others expressed themselves alarmed 
at the idea of Methodism having crept into the place. It was ill- 
judged and unkind. He should have entered into my design, or 
have been silent/' 

About the middle of July, 1 800, Mr. Cecil entered on the 
Livings of Bisley and Chobham in Surry. A few weeks after 
this I visited him with our dear and mutual friend Dr. Fearon. 

Here I saw him in a quite different situation from any in which 
I had seen him before, and was not a little curious to remark the 
manner in which he would treat a set of plain and homely 
villagers. Though he was repeatedly in great anguish during the 
day which we passed with him, yet his mind, in the intervals, 
was so vigorous and luminous that I have scarcely ever gathered 
so much from him in an equal time. 

On this occasion, among other things which are recorded in 



i6*o 



CHARACTER OF REV. RICHARD CECIL. 



his " Remains," he stated to us his views and feelings respecting 
his new charge. " Bisley is a rectory. It is completely out of 
the world. The farmers are all so perfectly untaught, that, 
when they met me to settle the business of their tythes, there was 
not one of them able to write. The farmers in these parts are 
mostly occupiers of their own land. They crowded round me 
when I first came, and were eager to make bargains with me for 
the tythe. I told them I was ignorant of such matters, but that 
I would propose a measure which none of them could object to. 
The farmers of Bisley should nominate three farmers of Chobham 
parish ; amd whatever those three Chobham farmers should ap- 
point me to receive, that they should pay. This was putting 
myself into their power indeed, but the one grand point with me 
was to conciliate their minds, and pave the way for the Gospel in 
these parishes. And so far it answered my purpose. I had 
desired the three farmers to throw the weight, in dubious cases> 
into the farmers' scale. After we had settled the business, one 
of the three, to convince the Bisley farmers that they had acted 
in the very spirit of my directions, proposed to find a person who 
would immediately give them 50l. a year for their bargain with 
me. This has given them an idea that we act npon high and 
iioly motives." 

What a noble trait is this of his upright and disinterested 
mind ! One might almost with confidence predict that such an 
introduction into his parishes was a presage of great usefulness. 
A minister has no right to wanton away the support of his fa- 
mily ; but, having secured that, whatever sacrifices he may make 
with such holy motives as these, will be abundantly repaid ; pro- 
bably in the success of his ministry, certainly in his Master's 
approbation and the peace of his own bosom. Those sacrifices 
of what may be strictly his due, which a narrow and worldly man 
will refuse to make though he entail discord and feuds on his 
parish, will be trifles to the mind of a true Christian Minister. 
The reader will here recollect the conversation on this subject 
before recorded. 

** I hardly think it likely that a man could have been received 



MINISTERIAL. 



161 



in a more friendly manner than I have been. About 500 people 
attend at Chobham, and 300 at Bisley. I find I can do any 
thing with them while I am serious. A baptist preacher had 
been some where in the neighbourhood before I came. He seems 
to have been wild and eccentric, and to have planted a prejudice 
in consequence of this in the people's minds, who appear to have 
had no other notion of methodism than that it was eccentricity. 

" While I am grave and serious they will allow me to say or 
do any thing. For instance ; a few Sundays since it rained so 
prodigiously hard when I had finished my Sermon at B. that I 
saw it was impracticable for any body to leave the Church. I 
then told the people that as it was likely to continue for some 
time, we had better employ ourselves as well as we could, and so 
I would take up the subject again. I did so ; and they listened 
to me readily for another half-hour, though I had preached to 
them three quarters of an hour* before I had concluded. All 
this they bear, and think it nothing strange ; but one wild brother 
with one eccentric sermon would do me more mischief than I 
should be able in many months to cure." 

i A very strong instance of personal attachment to him occurred 
soon after he took Chobham. A stranger was observed to at- 
tend church every Sunday, and to leave the village immediately 
after service was over. Every strange face there was a pheno- 
menon, and of course the appearance of this man led to enquiry. 
He was found to be one of his own people at St. John's — a poor, 
working man, whom the advantages received under his ministry 
had so knit to his pastor, that he found himself repaid for a 
weekly journey of fifty miles. Mr. C. remonstrated with him on the 
inexpediency and impropriety of thus spending his Sabbath, when 
the pure word of God might be heard so much nearer home. 

But we must approach the closing scene of this great man's 
life and labours. 

No touches need to be added to the affecting picture which 
Mrs. Cecil has drawn of his gradual descent to the grave. I will 
only subjoin here some remarks on his views and feelings 

t M 



162 CHARACTER OF REV. RICHARD CECIL. 



with respect to that Gospel of which he had been so long an 
eminent and successful Minister. 

His views of Christianity were modified, as has been seen, by 
his constitution and the circumstances of his life. His dispensa- 
tion was to meet a particular class of hearers. He was fitted, 
beyond most men, to assert the reality, dignity, and glory of 
religion — as contrasted with the vanity, meanness, and glare of 
the world. This subject he treated like a master. Men of the 
world felt that they were in the presence of their superior — of 
one who unmasked their real misery to themselves, and pursued 
them through all the false refuges of vain and carnal minds. 

While this was the principal character of Mr. Cecil's ministry, 
for years, at that place for which he seems to have been specially 
prepared ; yet he was elsewhere, with equal wisdom, leading ex- 
perienced Christians forward in their way to heaven: and, lat- 
terly, the habit of his own mind and the . whole system of his 
ministry were manifestly ripening in those views which are pecu- 
liar to the Gospel. 

No man had a more just view of his own ministry than he 
had ; nor could any one more highly value the excellence which 
he saw in others, though it was of a different class from his own. 

" I have been lately selecting," he said to me, " some of C 's 

Letters for publication. With the utmost difficulty, I have given 
some little variety. He begins with Jesus Christ, carries Him 
through, and closes with Him. If a broken leg or arm turns 
him aside, he seems impatient to dismiss it as an intrusive sub- 
ject, and to get back again to his topic. I feel, as I read his 
letters — ' Why, you said this in the last sentence ! What over 
and over again ! What nothing else ! No variety of view ! No 
illustration ! ' And yet, I confess, that, when I have walked out 
and my mind has been a good deal exercised on his letters, I 
have caught a sympathy—' It is one thing, without variety or 
relief ; but this one thing is a talisman!' — I have raised my 
head — I have trod firmly — my heart has expanded — I have 
felt wings! Men must not be viewed indiscriminately. To a 



MINISTERIAL. 



163 



certain degree I produce effect in my way, and with my views. 
The utter ruin and bankruptcy of man is so wrought into my 
experience, that I handle this subject naturally. Other men 
may use God's more direct means as naturally as I can use His 
more indirect and collateral ones. Every man, however, must 
rather follow than lead his experience; though, to a certain 
degree, if he finds his habits diverting him from Jesus Christ as 
the grand, prominent, only feature, he must force himself to 
chuse such topics as shall lead his mind to Him. I am obliged 
to subject myself to this discipline. I frequently chuse subjects 
and enter into my plan, before I discover that the saviour 
occupies a part too subordinate : I throw them aw r ay, and take 
up others which point more directly and naturally to Him." 

In his last illness, he spoke, with great feeling, on the same 
subject: " That Christianity may be very sincere, which is not 
sublime. Let a man read Maclaurin's Sermon on the Cross of 
Christ, and enter into the subject with taste and relish, what 
beggary is the world to him ! The subject is so high and so 
glorious, that a man must go out of himself, as it were, to ap- 
prehend it. The Apostle had such a view when he said / count 
all things but loss for the excellency of the knowledge of Christ 
Jesus my Lord* I remember the time, even after I became 
really serious in religion, when I could not understand what 
St. Paul meant — not by setting forth the glory of Christ, but by 
talking of it in such hyperbolical terms, and always dwelling on 
the subject: whatever topic he began on, I saw that he could 
not but glide into the same subject. But I now understand 
why he did so, and wonder no more; for there is no other 
subject, comparatively, worthy our thoughts, and therefore it is 
that advanced Christians dwell on little eke; I am fully per- 
suaded, that the whole world becomes vain and empty to a man, 
in proportion as he enters into living views of Jesus Christ." 

His feelings on religion, as they respected his submission 
to the divine will, were admirably expressed by himself: — " We 
are servants, and we must not chuse our station. I am now 
called to go down very low, but I must not resist. God is 

M 2 



CHARACTER OF REV. RICHARD CECIL. 



saying to me, ' You have not been doing my work in my way : 
you have been too hasty. Now sit down, and be content to be 
a quiet idler: and wait till I give you leave again to go on in 
your labours'." 

In respect to his personal comfort, he had said — " I 
have attained satisfaction as to my state, by a consciousness of 
change in my own breast, mixed with a consciousness of 
integrity. 

Two evidences are satisfactory to me : — 

1. A consciousness of approving God's plan of government in 

the Gospel. 

2. A consciousness, that, in trouble, I run to God as a child." 
These evidences Mr. C. illustrated even in his diseased mo- 
ments before his death. On that afflicting dispensation I shall 
not here dwell, as I think nothing can be added to what my 
friend, his successor, has so well said in the second of his Fu- 
neral Sermons, and which Mrs. Cecil has quoted toward the 
close of her Memoir. 

Such was Mr. Cecil. I sincerely regret that some masterly 
observer did not both enjoy and improve opportunities of deli- 
neating a more perfect picture of his great mind. I have, how- 
ever, faithfully detailed the impressions which his character 
made on me, during a long course of affectionate admiration of 
him : nor have I shrunk from intermingling such remarks, as 
every faithful observer must find occasion to make while he is 
watching the unfoldings of the best and greatest of men. 

Christian parents, and particularly christian mo- 
thers, may gather from the history and character of our 
departed friend every possible encouragement to the unwearied 
care of their children. While St. Austin, Bishop Hall, Richard 
Hooker, John Newton, Richard Cecil, and many other great 
and eminent servants of Christ, have left on record their grateful 
acknowledgments to their pious mothers, as the instruments 
under the grace and blessing of God, of winning them to himself, 
let no woman of faith and prayer despair respecting even her 
most untoward child. 



MINISTERIAL. 



165 



Mr. Cecil's mere admirers should feel what a weight of 
responsibility his ministry and his character have laid them 
under. They gave him the ear, but he laboured for the heart. 
They were pleased with the man, but he prayed that they might 
become displeased with themselves. They would aid him in his 
schemes, but he was anxious that they should serve his Master. 
How soon must they meet him at that judgment-seat before 
which all must appear, to receive according to what they have 
done in the body whether good or evil ! 

His sincere friends are called to imitate his example— 
to follow him as he followed Christ — to live above this vain 
world — to sacrifice every thing to the honour of Christ and the 
interests of Eternity — to bear up under pain and weariness and 
anxiety, leaning on Almighty Strength: till they join him in 
that world where weakness shall be felt no more ! 



JOSIAH PRATT. 



REMAINS 

OF THE 

REV. RICHARD CECIL. 



INTRODUCTION. 



• He, that has the happy talent of parlour- 
preaching," says Dr. Watts*, " has sometimes 
done more for Christ and souls in the space of a 
few minutes, than by the labour of many hours 
and days in the usual course of preaching in the 
pulpit." 

On my first intercourse with Mr. Cecil, now 
upward of fifteen years since when in the full 
vigour of his mind, I was so struck with the wis- 
dom and originality of his remarks, that I con- 
sidered it my duty to record what seemed to me 
most likely to be useful to others. 

It should be observed that Mr. Cecil is made 
to speak often of himself; and, to persons who 
do not consider the circumstances of the case, 
there may appear much egotism in the quantity 
of such remarks here put together, and in the 
manner in which his things are said : but this will 
be treating him with the most flagrant injustice; 

* An Humble Attempt towards the Revival of Religion. Part. I. 
Sect. 4. 

t M 5 



INTRODUCTION. 

for it must be remembered that the remarks of 
this nature were chiefly made by him, from time 
to time, iii answer to my particular enquiries into 
his judgment and habits on certain points of doc- 
trine or practice. 

I have laboured in recording those sentiments 
which I have gathered from him in conversation, 
to preserve as much as possible his very expres- 
sions; and they who were familiar with his man- 
ner will be able to judge, in general, how far I 
have succeeded : but I would explicitly disavow 
an exact verbal responsibility. For the "senti- 
ments I make myself answerable. 

In some instances I have brought together 
observations made at different times: the reader 
is not therefore to understand that the thoughts 
here collected on any subject always followed in 
immediate connection. 



J. P. 



REMARKS 

f MADE BY 

MR. CECIL, 

CHIEFLY IN 

CONVERSATION WITH THE EDITOR, 

OR IN 

DISCUSSIONS WHEN HE WAS PRESENT. 



" Multa ab eo prudenter disputata, multa etiam breviter et commodl dicta 
memories mandabam,Jierique studebam ejus prudentid doctior. 

Cic. de Amicit. I. 



ON THE 

CHRISTIAN LIFE 

AND 

CONFLICT. 



TThE direct cause of a Christian's spiritual life, 
is, Union with Christ. All attention to the mere 
circumstantials of religion, has a tendency to draw 
the soul away from this union, Few men, except 
ministers, are called, by the nature of their sta- 
tion, to enter much into these circumstantials :— 
such, for instance, as the evidences of the truth of 
religion. Ministers feel this deadening effect of 
any considerable or continued attention to exter- 
nals : much more must private Christians. The 
head may be strengthened, till the heart is starved. 
Some private Christians, however, may be called 
on by the nature of those circles in which they 
move, to be qualified to meet and refute the ob- 
jections which may be urged against religion. 
Such men, as well as ministers, while they are 
furnishing themselves for this purpose, must ac- 
quiesce in the work which God appoints for them, 



172 



REMAINS. 



with prayer and watchfulness. If they cannot 
always live and abide close to the ark, and the 
pot of manna, and the cherubims, and the mercy- 
seat ; yet they are drawing the water and gather- 
ing the wood necessary for the service of the 
camp. But let their hearts still turn toward the 
place where the Glory resideth. 



The Christian's fellowship with God is rather a 
habit, than a rapture. He is a pilgrim, who has 
the habit of looking forward to the light before 
him : he has the habit of not looking back : he 
has the habit of walking steadily in the way, 
whatever be the weather, and whatever the road. 
These are his habits : and the Lord of the Way is 
his Guide, Protector, Friend, and Felicity. 



As the Christian's exigencies arise, he has a spiri- 
tual habit of turning to God, and saying, with the 
Church, " Tell me, O thou whom my soul lovetk, 
tvhere thou feedest, ivhere thou makest thy flocks to 
rest at noon. I have tried to find rest elsewhere. 
I have fled to shelters, which held out great pro- 
mise of repose ; but I have now long since learned 
to turn unto thee : Tell me, O thou whom my soul 
loveth, ivhere thou feedest, ivhere thou makest thy 
flocks to rest at noon." 



ON THE CHRISTIAN LIFE AND CONDUCT. 173 



The Christian will look back, throughout eter- 
nity, with interest and delight, on the steps and 
means of his conversion. " My Father told me 
this ! My Mother told me that ! Such an event 
was sanctified to me ! In such a place God visited 
my soul !" These recollections will never grow 
dull and wearisome. 



A volume might be written on the various me- 
thods which God has taken, in Providence, to 
lead men first to think of Him. 



The history of a man's own life, is, to himself, 
the most interesting history in the world, next to 
that of the scriptures. Every man is an original 
and solitary character. None can either under- 
stand or feel the book of his own life like himself. 
The lives of other men are to him dry and vapid, 
when set beside his own. He enters very little 
into the spirit of the Old Testament, who does 
not see God calling on him to turn over the pages 
of this history, when he says to the Jew, Thou 
shalt remember all the ivay which the Lord thy 
God led thee these forty years. He sees God 
teaching the Jew to look at the records of his 
deliverance from the Red Sea, of the manna 
showered down on him from heaven, and of the 
Amalekites put to flight before him. There are 



174 



REMAINS. 



such grand events in the life and experience of every 
Christian. It may be well for him to review them 
often. I have, in some cases, vowed before God 
to appropriate yearly remembrances of some of 
the signal turns of my life. Having made the vow, 
I hold it as obligatory : but I would advise others 
to greater circumspection ; as they may bring a 
galling yoke on themselves, which God designed 
not to put on them. 



True grace is a growing principle. The Chris- 
tian grows in discernment: a child may play 
with a serpent; but the man gets as far from it 
as he can : a child may taste poison ; but the 
man will not suffer a speck of poison near him. 
He grows in humility: the blade shoots up 
boldly, and the young ear keeps erect with confi- 
dence; but the full corn in the ear inclines itself 
toward the earth, not because it is feebler, but 
because it is matured. He grows in strength: 
the new wine ferments and frets ; but the old wine 
acquires a body and a firmness. 



Tenderness of conscience is always to be dis- 
tinguished from Scrupulousness. The conscience 
cannot be kept too sensible and tender: but scru- 
pulousness arises from bodily or mental infirmity.. 



ON THE CHRISTIAN LIFE AND CONFLICT. 175 

and discovers itself in a multitude of ridiculous, 
and superstitious, and painful feelings. 



The head is dull, in discerning the value 0? God's 
expedients : and the heart cold, sluggish, and re- 
luctant, in submitting to them : but the head is 
lively, in the invention of its own expedients ; 
and the heart eager and sanguine, in the pursuit 
of them. No wonder, then, that God subjects 
both the head and the heart to a course of conti- 
nual correction. 



Every man will have his own criterion in forming 
his judgment of others. I depend very much on 
the effect of affliction. I consider how a man 
comes out of the furnace: gold will lie for a 
month in the furnace without losing a grain. And, 
while under trial, a child has a habit of turning to 
his father: he is not like a penitent, who has been 
whipped into this state : it is natural to him. It 
is dark, and the child has no whither to run, but 
to his father. 



Defilement is inseparable from the world. A 
man can no where rest his foot on it without 
sinking. A strong principle of assimilation com- 
bines the world and the heart together. There 



176 



REMAINS. 



are, especially, certain occasions, when the cur- 
rent hurries a man away, and he has lost the reli- 
gious government of himself. When the pilot 
finds, on making the port of Messina, that the 
ship will not obey the helm, he knows that she is 
got within the influence of that attraction, which 
will bury her in the whirlpool. We are to avoid 
the danger, rather than to oppose it. This is a 
great doctrine of Scripture. An active force 
against the world is not so much inculcated, as a 
retreating, declining spirit. Keep thyself un- 
spotted from the world. 



There are seasons when a Christian's distin- 
guishing character is hidden from man. A Chris- 
tian merchant on 'Change is not called to shew 
any difference in his mere exterior carriage from 
another merchant. He gives a reasonable answer 
if he is asked a question. He does not fanatically 
intrude religion into every sentence he utters. He 
does not suppose his religion to be inconsistent 
with the common interchange of civilities. He 
is affable and courteous. He can ask the news of 
the day, and take up any public topic of conver- 
sation. But is he, therefore, not different from 
other men? He is like another merchant in the 
mere exterior circumstance, which is least in God's 
regard; — but, in his taste! — his views! — his 
science! — his hopes!— -his happiness! he is as 



ON THE CHRISTIAN LIFE AND CONFLICT. 177 



different from those around him as light is from 
darkness. He waits for the coming of our Lord 
Jesus Christ, who never passes perhaps through 
the thoughts of those he talks with, but to be 
neglected and despised ! 



The Christian is called to be like Abraham, in 
conduct; like Paul, in labours; and like John, 
in spirit. Though, as a man of faith, he goes 
forth not knowing whither, and his principle is 
hidden from the world, yet he will oblige the 
world to acknowledge: " His views, it is true, 
we do not understand. His principles and ge- 
neral conduct are a mystery to us. But a more 
upright, noble, generous, disinterested, peace- 
able, and benevolent man, we know not where 
to find." The world may even count him a mad- 
man ; and false brethren may vilify his character, 
and calumniate his motives : yet he will bear down 
evil, by repaying good ; and will silence his ene- 
mies, by the abundance of his labours. He may 
be shut out from the world — cast into prison — 
banished into obscurity— no eye to observe him, 
no hand to help him — but it is enough for him, if 
his Saviour will speak to him and smile on him ! 



Christians are too little aware what their re- 
ligion requires from them, with regard to their 
t N 



178 



REMAINS. 



wishes. When we wish things to be otherwise 
than they are, we lose sight of the great practical 
parts of the life of godliness. We wish, and 
wish— when, if we have done all that lies on us, 
we should fall quietly into the hands of God. 
Such wishing cuts the very sinews of our privi- 
leges and consolations. You are leaving me for a 
time ; and you say you wish you could leave me 
better, or leave me with some assistance : but, if 
it is right for you to go, it is right for me to meet 
what lies on me, without a wish that I had less to 
meet, or were better able to meet it. 



I could write down twenty cases, wherein I 
wished God had done otherwise than he did; 
but which I now see, had I had my own will, 
would have led to extensive mischief. The life 
of a Christian is a life of paradoxes. He must 
lay hold on God: he must follow hard after him: 
he must determine not to let him go. And yet he 
must learn to let God alone. Quietness before 
God is one of the most difficult of all Christian 
graces — to sit where he places us ; to be what he 
would have us be, and this as long as He pleases. 
We are like a player at bowls: if he has given his 
bowl too little bias, he cries, " Flee :" if he has 
given it too much, he cries, " Rub you see him 
lifting his leg, and bending his body, in conformity 
to the motion he would impart to the bowl. Thus 



ON THE CHRISTIAN LIFE AND CONFLICT. 179 



I have felt with regard to my dispensations : I 
would urge them or restrain them: I would assi- 
milate them to the habit of my mind. But I have 
smarted for this under severe visitations. It may 
seem a harsh, but it is a wise and gracious dispen- 
sation toward a man, when, the instant he stretches 
out his hand to order his affairs, God forces him 
to withdraw it. Concerning what is morally good 
or evil, we are sufficiently informed for our di- 
rection ; but, concerning what is naturally good 
or evil, we are ignorance itself. Restlessness 
and self-will are opposed to our duty in these 
cases. 



Schooling the heart is the grand means of 
personal religion. To bring motives under faithful 
examination, is a high state of religious character: 
with regard to the depravity of the heart we live 
daily in the disbelief of our own creed. We in- 
dulge thoughts and feelings, which are founded 
upon the presumption that all around us are im- 
perfect and corrupted, but that we are exempted. 
The self-will and ambition and passion of public 
characters in the religious world, all arise from 
this sort of practical infidelity. And, though its 
effects are so manifest in these men, because they 
are leaders of parties, and are set upon a pinnacle 
so that all who are without the influence of their 
vortex can see them ; yet every man's own breast 

N 2 



180 



REMAINS. 



has an infallible, dogmatizing, excommunicating, 
and anathematizing spirit working within. 

Acting from the occasion, without recollection 
and inquiry, is the death of personal religion. It 
will not suffice merely to retire to the study or 
the closet. The mind is sometimes, in private, 
most ardently pursuing its particular object; and, 
as it then acts from the occasion, nothing is further 
from it than recollectedness. I have, for weeks 
together, in pursuit of some scheme, acted so en- 
tirely from the occasion, that, when I have at 
length called myself to account, I have seemed 
like one awaked from a dream. " Am I the man, 
who could think and speak so and so? Am I the 
man who could feel such a disposition, or discover 
such conduct?" The fascination and enchant- 
ment of the occasion is vanished; and I stand like 
David in similar circumstances before Nathan. 
Such cases in experience are, in truth, a moral 
intoxication : and the man is only then sober, 
when he begins to school his heart. 



The servant of God has not only natural sensibi- 
lities, by which he feels, in common with other 
men, the sorrows of life ; but he has moral sensi- 
bilities, which are peculiar to his character. When 
David was driven from his kingdom, he not only 
felt depressed as an exile and wanderer ; but he 
would recollect his own sin as punished in the 



ON THE CHRISTIAN LIFE AND CONFLICT. 181 



affliction. Eli had not only to suffer the pangs of 
a father in the loss of his sons ; but he would 
recal, with bitterness of spirit, his own misma- 
nagement, in bringing up these sons. St. Paul 
had not only to endure the thorn in the flesh ; but 
he would feel that he carried about him propen- 
sities to self-exaltation, which rendered that thorn 
necessary and salutary. 



Dangerous predicaments are the brinks of 
temptation. A man often gives evidence to 
others that he is giddy, though he is not aware of 
it perhaps himself. Whoever has been in danger 
himself, will guess very shrewdly concerning the 
dangerous state of such a man. 

A haughty spirit is a symptom of extreme dan- 
ger : — A haughty spirit goeth before a fall. 

Presumptuous carelessness indicates danger. 
" Who fears ?" — This is to be feared, that you 
feel no cause of fear. Such was Peter's state : 
Though all men forsake thee, yet will not I. 

Venturing on the borders of danger is much 
akin to this. A man goes on pretty well till he 
ventures within the atmosphere of danger; but 
the atmosphere of danger infatuates him. The 
ship is got within the influence of the vortex, and 
will not obey the helm. David was sitting in this 
atmosphere on the house-top, and was ensnared 
and fell. 



182 



REMAINS. 



An accession of wealth is a dangerous predica- 
ment for a man. At first he is stunned, if the 
accession be sudden : he is very humble and very 
grateful. Then he begins to speak a little louder, 
people think him more sensible, and soon he 
thinks himself so. 

A man is in imminent danger when, in suspected 
circumstances, he is disposed to equivocate, as 
Abraham did with Pharaoh, and Isaac with 
Abimelech. 

Stupidity of conscience under chastisement — 
an advancement to power, when a man begins to 
relish such power — popularity — self-indulgence — 
a disposition to gad about, like Dinah — all these 
are symptoms of spiritual danger. 



A change of circumstances in our condition 
of life is a critical period. No man who has not 
passed through such a change, can form any ade- 
quate notion of its effects upon the mind. When 
money comes into the pocket of a poor man in 
small sums, it goes out as it came in, and more 
follows it in the same way; and, with a certain 
freedom and indifference, it is applied to its proper 
uses : but when he begins to receive round sums, 
that may yield him an interest, and when this 
interest comes to be added to his principal, and 
the sweets of augmentation to creep over him, it 
is quite a new world to him. In a rise of circum- 



ON THE CHRISTIAN LIFE AND CONFLICT. 183 

stances too the man becomes, in his own opinion, 
a wiser man, a greater man ; and pride of station 
crosses him in his way. Nor is the contrary 
change less dangerous. Poverty has its trials. 
That is a fine trait in the Pilgrim's Progress, that 
Christian stumbled in going down the Hill into 
the Valley of Humiliation. 



A sound head, a simple heart, and a spirit de- 
pendent on Christ, will suffice to conduct us in 
every variety of circumstances. 



I cannot look through my past life without 
trembling. A variation in my circumstances has 
been attended with dangers and difficulties, little 
of which I saw at the time compared with what 
reflection has since shewn me, but which in the 
review of them make me shudder, and ought to 
fill me with gratitude. He, who views this sub- 
ject aright, will put up particular prayers against 
sudden attacks. 



God will have the Christian thoroughly humbled 
and dependent. Strong minds think perhaps 
sometimes, that they can effect great things in 
experience by keeping themselves girt up, by the 
recurrence of habit, by vigorous exertion. This is 



184 



REMAINS. 



their unquestionable duty. But God often strips 
them, lest they should grow confident. He lays 
them bare — He makes them feel poor, dark, im- 
potent. He seems to say, " Strive with all your 
vigour, but yet I am He that worketh all in all." 



There is no calling or profession, however en- 
snaring in many respects to a Christian mind, 
provided it be not in itself simply unlawful, 
wherein God has not frequently raised up faithful 
witnesses, who have stood forth as examples to 
others, in like situations, of the practicability of 
uniting great eminence in the Christian Life with 
the discharge of the duties of their profession, 
however difficult. 



Fear has the most steady effect on the constitu- 
tional temperament of some Christians, to keep 
them in their course. A strong sense of duty 
fixes on the minds of others, and is the prevailing 
principle of conduct, without any direct reference 
to consequences. On minds of a stubborn, re- 
fractory, and self-willed temper, fear and duty 
have in general little effect: they brave fear, and a 
mere sense of duty is a cold and lifeless principle; 
but gratitude, under a strong and subduing 
sense of mercies, melts them into obedience. 



ON THE CHRISTIAN LIFE AND CONFLICT. 185 



There is a large class, who would confound 
nature and grace. These are chiefly women. 
They sit at home, nursing themselves over a fire, 
and then trace up the natural effects of solitude 
and want of air and exercise into spiritual deser- 
tion. There is more pride in this than they are 
aware of. They are unwilling to allow so simple 
and natural a cause of their feelings; and wish to 
find something in the thing more sublime. 



There are so many things to lower a man's top- 
sails — he is such a dependent creature — he is to 
pay such court to his stomach, his food, his sleep, 
his exercise — that, in truth, a Hero is an idle 
word. Man seems formed to be a Hero in Suf- 
fering — not a Hero in Action. Men err in nothing 
more than in the estimate which they make of 
human labour. The Hero of the world is the 
man that makes a bustle — the man that makes 
the road smoke under his chaise-and-four — the 
man that raises a dust about him — the man that 
manages or devastates empires ! But what is the 
real labour of this man — compared with that of a 
silent sufferer? He lives on his projects. He 
encounters, perhaps, rough roads — incommodious 
inns — bad food — storms and perils — weary days 
and sleepless nights : — but what are these ! — his 
project — his point — the thing that has laid hold 
on his heart — glory — a name — consequence — 



186 



REMAINS. 



pleasure — wealth — these render the man callous 
to the pains and efforts of the body ! I have been 
in both states, and therefore understand them ; 
and I know that men form this false estimate. 
Besides — there is something in bustle, and stir, 
and activity, that supports itself. At one period, 
I preached and read five times on a Sunday, and 
rode sixteen miles. But what did it cost me ? 
Nothing ! Yet most men would have looked on 
while I was rattling from village to village, with 
all the dogs barking at my heels, and would have 
called me a Hero : whereas, if they were to look 
at me now, they would call me an idle, lounging 
fellow. " He makes a Sermon on the Saturday 
— he gets into his study — he walks from end to 
end — he scribbles on a scrap of paper — he throws 
it away, and scribbles on another — he takes snuff 
— he sits down — scribbles again — walks about. — 7 
The man cannot see that here is an exhaustion of 
the spirit, which, at night, will leave me worne to 
the extremity of endurance. He cannot see the 
numberless efforts of mind, which are crossed, and 
stifled, and recoil on the spirits; like the fruitless 
efforts of a traveller to get firm footing among 
the ashes on the steep sides of Mount Etna.* 



Elijah appears to have been a man of what we 
call a great spirit: yet we never find him rising 

* See the Adventurer, No. cxxvii. J. P. 



ON THE CHRISTIAN LIFE AND CONFLICT. 187 

against the humiliating methods, which God was 
sometimes pleased to take with him ; whether he 
is to depend for his daily food on the ravens, or 
is to be nourished by the slender pittance of a 
perishing widow. Pride would choose for us 
such means of provision, as have some appearance 
of our own agency in them : and stouthearted- 
ness would lead us to refuse things, if we cannot 
have them in our own way. 



The blessed man is he, who is under education in 
God's school ; where he endures chastisement, 
and by chastisement is instructed. The foolish 
creature is bewitched, sometimes, with the en- 
chantments and sorceries of life. He begins to 
lose the lively sense of that something, which is 
superior to the glory of the world. His grovel- 
ling soul begins to say, " Is not this fine ? Is not 
that charming ? Is not that noble house worth a 
wish ? Is not that equipage worth a sigh ?" He 
must go to the word of God to know what a thing 
is worth. He must be taught there to call things 
by their proper names. If he have lost this habit, 
when his heart puts the questions he will answer 
them like a fool ; as I have done a thousand times. 
He will forget that God puts his children into 
possession of these things, as mere stewards ; and 
that the possession of them increases their respon- 
sibility. He will sit down, and plan and scheme 



188 



REMAINS. 



to obtain possession of things, which he forgets 
are to be burnt and destroyed. But God dashes 
the fond scheme in pieces. He disappoints the 
project. And, with the chastisement, he sends 
instruction : for he knows that the silly creature, 
if left to himself, would begin, like the spider 
whose web has been swept away, to spin it again. 
And then the man sees that Job is blessed — not 
when God gives him sons, and daughters, and 
flocks, and herds, and power, and honour; but 
when God takes all these away — not, when the 
schemes of his carnal heart are indulged ; but 
when they are crossed and disappointed. 



A stubborn and rebellious mind in a Christian, 
must be kept low by dark and trying dispensa- 
tions. The language of God, in his providence, to 
such an one, is generally of this kind : " I will 
not wholly hide myself. I will be seen by thee. 
But thou shalt never meet me, except in a dark 
night and in a storm." Ministers of such a na- 
tural spirit are often fitted for eminent usefulness 
by these means. 



The Christian, in his sufferings, is often tempted 
to think himself forgotten. But his afflictions are 
the clearest proofs, that he is an object both of 
Satan's enmity, and of God's fatherly discipline. 



ON THE CHRISTIAN LIFE AND CONFLICT. 189 



Satan would not have man suffer a single trouble 
all his life long, if he might have his way. He 
would give him the thing his heart is set upon. 
He would work in with his ambition. He would 
pamper his lust and his pride. But God has better 
things in reserve for his children : and they must 
be brought to desire them and seek them ; and 
this will be through the wreck and sacrifice of all 
that the heart holds dear. The Christian prays 
for fuller manifestations of Christ's power and 
glory and love to him ; but he is often not aware, 
that this is, in truth, praying to be brought into 
the furnace : for in the furnace only it is, that 
Christ can walk with his friends, and display, 
in their preservation and deliverance, his own 
almighty power. Yet, when brought thither, it is 
one of the worst parts of the trial, that the Chris- 
tian often thinks himself, for a time at least, aban- 
doned. Job thought so. But while he looked 
on himself as an outcast, the Infinite Spirit and 
the Wicked Spirit were holding a dialogue on his 
case! He was more an object of notice and 
interest, than the largest armies that were ever 
assembled, and the mightiest revolutions that ever 
shook the world, considered merely in their tem- 
poral interests and consequences. Let the Chris- 
tian be deeply concerned, in all his trials, to 
honour his Master before such observers ! 



190 



REMAINS. 



Affliction has a tendency, especially if long 
continued, to generate a kind of despondency and 
ill-temper : and spiritual incapacity is closely con- 
nected with pain and sickness. The spirit of 
prayer docs not necessarily come with affliction. 
If this be not poured out upon the man, he will, 
like a wounded beast, skulk to his den and growl 
there. 



God has marked implicitness and simplicity 
of faith with peculiar approbation. He has 
done this throughout the Scripture ; and he is 
doing it daily in the Christian Life. An unsus- 
pecting, unquestioning, unhesitating spirit he de- 
lights to honour. He does not delight in a credu- 
lous, weak, and unstable mind. He gives us full 
evidence, when he calls and leads ; but he expects 
to find in us — what he himself bestows — an open 
ear and a disposed heart. Though he gives us 
not the evidence of sense ; yet he gives such evi- 
dence as will be heard by an open ear, and fol- 
lowed by a disposed heart : Thomas ! because thou 
hast seen me, thou hast believed : blessed are they, 
that have not seen, and yet have believed. We are 
witnesses what an open ear and a disposed heart 
will do in men of the world. If wealth is in pur- 
suit — if a place presents itself before them — if 
their persons and families and affairs are the 
object — a whisper, a hint, a probability, a mere 




ON THE CHRISTIAN LIFE AND CONFLICT. 191 

chance, is a sufficient ground of action. It is 
this very state of mind with regard to religion, 
which God delights in and honours. He seems 
to put forth a hand, and to say — " Put thy hand 
into mine. Follow all my leadings. Keep thy- 
self attentive to every turn." 



A sound heart is an excellent casuist. Men 
stand doubting what they shall do, while an evil 
heart is at the bottom. If, with St. Paul, they 
simply did one thing, the way would be plain. A 
miser, or an ambitious man, knows his points ; 
and he has such a simplicity in the pursuit of 
them, that you seldom find him at a loss about 
the steps which he should take to attain them. 
He has acquired a sort of instinctive habit in 
his pursuit. Simplicity and rectitude would have 
prevented a thousand schisms in the Church; 
which have generally risen from men having some- 
thing else in plan and prospect, and not the one 
tiling. 



WHAT I do, thou knowest not now; but thou 
shah know hereafter— is the unvaried language of 
God, in his providence. He will have credit 
every step. He will not assign reasons, because 
he will exercise faith. 



192 



REMAINS. 



Pride urges men to enquire into the philosophy 
of Divine Truth. They are not contented, for 
example, with the account which the Bible gives 
of the origin of evil, and its actual influence on 
mankind ; but they would supply what God has 
left untold. They would explain the fitness and 
propriety of things. A mathematician may sum- 
mon his scholars round his chair, and from self- 
evident principles deduce and demonstrate his 
conclusions : he has axioms ; but concerning evil 
we have none. A Christian may say on this sub- 
ject, as Sir Christopher Wren did concerning the 
roof of King's College Chapel — " Shew me how 
to fix the first stone, and I will finish the building ' 
— " Explain the origin of evil, and I will explain 
every other difficulty respecting evil." We are 
placed in a disposition and constitution of things, 
under a Righteous Governor. If we will not rest 
satisfied with this, something is wrong in our state 
of mind. It is a solid satisfaction to every man 
who has been seduced into foolish enquiries, that 
it is utterly impossible to advance one inch by 
them. He must come back to rest in God's ap- 
pointment. He must come back to sit patiently, 
meekly, and with docility at the feet of a 
teacher. 



Duties are ours: events are God's. This re- 
moves an infinite burden from the shoulders of a 



ON THE CHRISTIAN LIFE AND CONFLICT. 193 



miserable, tempted, dying creature. On this con- 
sideration only, can he securely lay down his 
head and close his eyes. 



The Christian often thinks, and schemes, and 
talks, like a practical Atheist. His eye is so 
conversant with Second Causes, that the Great 
Mover is little regarded. And yet those senti- 
ments and that conduct of others, by which his 
affairs are influenced, are not formed by chance 
and at random. They are attracted toward the 
system of his affairs or repelled from them, by the 
Highest Power. We talk of attraction in the 
Universe; but there is no such thing, as we are 
accustomed to consider it. The natural and moral 
worlds are held together, in their respective oper- 
ations, by an Incessant Administration. It is the 
mighty grasp of a controuling hand, which keeps 
every thing in its station. Were this controul 
suspended, there is nothing adequate to the pre- 
servation of harmony and affection between my 
mind and that of my dearest friend, for a single 
hour. 



Lord Chesterfield tells his son, that, when he 

entered into the world and heard the conjectures 

and notions about public affairs, he was surprised 

at their folly ; because he was in the secret, and 

knew what was passing in the Cabinet. We 
VOL. IIL O 



194 



REMAINS. 



negotiate. We make treaties. We make war. We 
cry for peace. We have public hopes and fears. 
We distrust one minister, and we repose on ano- 
ther. We recal one General or Admiral, because 
he has lost the national confidence, and we send 
out another with a full tide of hopes and expecta- 
tions. We find something in men and measures, 
as the sufficient cause of all sufferings or anticipa- 
tions. — But a religious man enters the Cabinet. 
He sees, in all public fears and difficulties, the 
pressure of God's hand. So long as this pressure 
continues, he knows that we may move heaven 
and earth in vain: every thing is bound up in icy fet- 
ters. But, when God removes his hand, the waters 
flow; measures avail, and hopes are accomplished. 



We are too apt to forget our actual dependence 
on Providence, for the circumstances of every 
instant. The most trivial events may determine 
our state in the world. Turning up one street 
instead of another, may bring us into company with 
a person whom we should not otherwise have met; 
and this may lead to a train of other events, which 
may determine the happiness or misery of our lives. 



Light may break in upon a man after he has 
taken a particular step ; but he will not condemn 
himself for the step taken in a less degree of light: 
he may hereafter see still better than he now does, 
and have reason to alter his opinion again. It is 



ON THE CHIRSTIAN LIFE AND CONFLICT. IS5 



enough to satisfy us of our duty, if we are con- 
scious, that, at the time we take a step, we have 
an adequate motive. If we are conscious of a 
wrong motive, or of a rash proceeding, for such 
steps we must expect to suffer. 

Trouble or difficulty befalling us after any par- 
ticular step, is not, of itself, an argument that the 
step was wrong. A storm overtook the disciples 
in the ship ; but this was no proof that they had 
done wrong to go on board. Esau met Jacob, 
and occasioned him great fear and anxiety, when 
he left Laban ; but this did not prove him to have 
done wrong in the step which he had taken. Diffi- 
culties are no ground of presumption against us, 
when we did not run into them in following our 
own will : yet the Israelites were with difficulty 
convinced that they were in the path of duty, 
when they found themselves shut in by the Red 
Sea. Christians, and especially ministers, must 
expect troubles : it is in this way that God leads 
them : he conducts them " per ardua ad astra" 
They would be in imminent danger if the multi- 
tude at all times cried Hosanna ! 

We must remember that we are short-sighted 
creatures. We are like an unskilful chess-player, 
who takes the next piece, while a skilful one looks 
further. He, who sees the end from the beginning, 
will often appoint us a most inexplicable way to 
walk in. Joseph was put into the pit and the dun- 
geon : but this was the way which led to the throne. 

02 



196 



REMAINS. 



We often want to know too much and too soon- 
We want the light of to-morrow, butit will not come 
till to-morrow. And then a slight turn, perhaps, 
will throw such light on our path, that we shall be 
astonished we saw not our way before. "I can wait," 
says Lavater. This is a high attainment. We must 
labour, therefore, to be quiet in that path, from 
which we cannot recede without danger and evil. 



There is not a nobler sight in the world, than 
an aged and experienced Christian, who, having 
been sifted in the sieve of temptation, stands forth 
as a confirmer of the assaulted— testifying, from his 
own trials, the reality of religion ; and meeting, by 
his warnings and directions and consolations, the 
cases of all who may be tempted to doubt it. 



The Christian expects his reward, not as due 
to merit ; but as connected, in a constitution of 
grace, with those acts which grace enables him 
to perform. The pilgrim, who has been led to 
the gate of heaven, will not knock there as worthy 
of being admitted; but the gate shall open to him, 
because he is brought thither; He, who sows, 
even with tear the precious seed of faith, hope, 
and love, shall doubtless come again with joy, and 
bring his sheaves ivith him; because it is in the very 
nature of that seed, to yield, under the kindly 
influence secured to it* a joyful harvest. 



SUBJECTS 

CONNECTED WITH 

THE CHRISTIAN MINISTRY. 



ON 



A MINISTER'S 

QUALIFYING HIMSELF FOR HIS OFFICE. 

When a young Minister sets out, he should 
sit down and ask himself how he may best 

QUALIFY HIMSELF FOR HIS OFFICE. 

How does a physician qualify himself? It is not 
enough that he offers to feel the pulse. He must 
read, and enquire, and observe, and make expe* 
riments, and correct himself again and again. 
He must lay in a stock of medical knowledge 
before he begins to feel the pulse. 

The Minister is a Physician of a far higher 
order. He has a vast field before him. He has 
to study an infinite variety of constitutions. He 
is to furnish himself with the knowledge of the 
whole system of remedies. He is to be a man of 
skill and expedient. If one thing fail, he must 
know how to apply another. Many intricate and 
perplexed cases will come before him : it will be 
disgraceful to him not to be prepared for such. 
His patients will put many questions to him : it 
will be disgraceful to him not to be prepared to 



200 



REMAINS. 



answer them. He is a merchant embarking in 
extensive concerns. A little ready money in the 
pocket will not answer the demands that will be 
made upon him. Some of us seem to think it 
will, but they are grossly deceived. There must 
be a well-furnished account at the banker's. 

But it is not all gold that glitters. A young- 
Minister must learn to separate and select his 
materials. A man who talks to himself will find 
out what suits the heart of man : some things 
respond : they ring again. Nothing of this nature 
is lost on mankind: it is worth its weight in gold, 
for the service of a Minister. He must remark 5 
too, what it is that puzzles and distracts the mind : 
all this is to be avoided : it may wear the garb of 
deep research, and great acumen, and extensive 
learning; but it is nothing to the mass of mankind. 

One of the most important considerations in 
making a sermon, is to disembarrass it as much 
as possible. The sermons of the last century 
were like their large, unweildy chairs. Men 
have now a far more true idea of a chair. They 
consider it as a piece of furniture to sit upon, 
and they cut away from it every thing that em- 
barrasses and encumbers it. It requires as much 
reflection and wisdom to know what is not to be 
put into a sermon, as what is. 

A young Minister should likewise look round 
him, that he may see what has succeeded and 
what has not. Truth is to be his companion, but 



ON THE CHRISTIAN MINISTRY. 201 



he is to clothe her so as to gain her access. Truth 
must never bow to fashion or prejudice ; but her 
garb may be varied. No man was ever eminently 
successful in his ministry, who did not make Truth 
his friend. Such a man might not see her, indeed, 
in all her beauty and proportions ; but, certainly, 
he saw and loved her. A young Minister should 
remember that she does not wear the dress of a 
party. Wherever she is, she is one and the same, 
however variously men may array her. He, who 
is ignorant of her prominent and distinguishing 
features, is like a musician who plays half score : 
it grates on every well-formed ear; as fatal error 
finds no corresponding vibration in the renewed 
heart. Truth forms an immediate acquaintance 
with such a heart, by a certain fitness and suitable- 
ness to its state and feelings. She is something 
different from the picture which a Churchman 
draws of her. A Dissenter misses her perfect 
figure. A Frenchman distorts her features in one 
way, and an Englishman in another. Every one 
makes his own cast and colour too essential 
to her. 

Knowledge, then, and Truth, are to be the 
constant aim of a young Minister. But where 
shall he find them? Let him learn from a fool, 
if a fool can teach him anything. Let him be 
every where and always a learner. He should 
imitate Gainsborough. Gainsborough transfused 
Nature into his landscapes, beyond almost any of 



202 



REMAINS. 



his contemporaries; because Gainsborough was 
every where the painter. Every remarkable fea- 
ture or position of a tree — every fine stroke of 
i Nature — was copied into his pocket-book on the 
spot ; and, in his next picture, appeared with a 
life and vivacity and nature, which no strength of 
memory or imagination could have supplied. 

There is a certain wise way, too, in which he 
should accustom himself to look down on the 
pursuits of all other men. No man of eminence 
in his profession is destitute of such a partial 
feeling for his profession ; though his judgment 
may remonstrate with him thereon, as an un- 
founded partiality. The Minister, however, is 
required so to view all other pursuits. He alone 
is the man, whose aim is Eternity. He alone is 
the man whose office and profession, in all their 
parts, are raised into dignity and importance by 
their direct reference to Eternity. For Eternity 
he schemes, and plans, and labours. 

He should become a philosopher also. He 
should make experiments on himself and others, 
in order to find out what will produce effect. He 
is a fisherman ; and the fisherman must fit himself 
to his employment. If some fish will bite only by 
day, he must fish by day : if others will bite only 
by moon-light, he must fish for them by moon- 
light. He has an engine to work, and it must be 
his most assiduous endeavour to work his engine 
to the full extent of its powers: and, to find out 



ON THE CHRISTIAN MINISTRY. 203 



its powers, is the first step toward success and 
effect. Many men play admirably on the organ, 
if you would allow to them that there is no differ- 
ence between an organ and a harpsichord, but 
they have utterly mistaken its powers. Combi- 
nation is the unrivalled excellence of the organ; 
and therefore he only can display its powers, who 
studies the chords and stops in all their infinite 
variety of resolution and composition, rather than 
the rapid motion of his fingers only. 

But all the Minister's efforts will be vanity, or 
worse than vanity, if he have not Unction. 
Unction must come down from heaven, and spread 
a savour and relish and feeling over his ministry. 
And, among all the other means of qualifying 
himself for his office, the Bible must hold the first 
place, and the last also must be given to the word 
&f God and prayer. 



\ 



ON THE 



ASSISTANCE 

WHICH A MINISTER HAS REASON TO EXPECT 

IN THE 

DISCHARGE OF HIS PUBLIC DUTY. 



Men have carried their views on this subject 
to extremes. Enthusiasts have said that learn- 
ing, and that studying and writing sermons, have 
injured the Church. The accurate men have said, 
" Go and hear one of these enthusiasts hold 
forth r 

But both classes may be rendered useful. Let 
each correct its evils, yet do its work in its own 
way. 

Some men set up exorbitant notions about ac- 
curacy. But exquisite accuracy is totally lost on 
mankind. The greater part of those who hear, 
cannot be brought to see the points of the accurate 
man. The Scriptures are not written in this man- 
ner. I should advise a young Minister to break 
through all such cobwebs, as these unphilosophical 
men would spin round him. An humble and 



ON THE CHRISTIAN MINISTRY. 205 



snodest man is silenced, if he sees one of these 
critics before him. He should say, " I am God's 
servant. To my own Master I stand or fall. I 
will labour according to the utmost ability which 
God giveth, and leave all consequences to him." 

We are especially taught in the New Testament, 
to glorify the Spirit of God : and, in his gracious 
operations in our ministry, we are nearer the Apos- 
tolic Times than we often think ourselves. 

But this assistance is to be expected by us, as 
labourers in the vineyard ; not as rhapsodists. Idle 
men may be pointed out, who have abused the 
doctrine of divine assistance ; but what has not 
been abused? We must expect a special blessing 
to accompany the truth: not to supersede labour, 
but to rest on and accompany labour. 

A Minister is to be in season, and out of season; 
and, therefore, every where a Minister. He will 
not employ himself in writing secular histories : 
he will not busy himself in prosecuting mathe- 
matical enquiries. He will labour directly in his 
high calling ; and indirectly, in a vast variety of 
ways, as he may be enabled : and God may bless 
that w ord in private, which may have been long 
heard in public in vain. 

A Minister should satisfy himself in saying, 
" It matters not what men think of my talents. 
Am I doing what I can ?" — for there is great en- 
couragement in that commendation of our Lord's^ 



206 



REMAINS. 



She hath done what she could. It would betray a 
wrong state of mind to say, ' ' If I had discharged 
my duty in such and such a way, I should have 
succeeded." This is a carnal spirit. If God bless 
the simple manner in which you spoke, that will 
do good; if not, no manner of speaking could 
have done it. 

There is such a thing in the religious world as a 
cold, carnal wisdom : every thing must be nicely 
weighed in the scales : every thing must be exactly 
measured by the rule. I question if this is not 
worse, in its consequences, than the enthusiasm 
which it opposes. Both are evil, and to be shun- 
ned. But I scarcely ever knew a preacher or 
writer of this class who did much good. 

We are to go forth, expecting the excellency of 
God's power to accompany us, since we are but 
earthen vessels: and if, in the Apostolic days, dili- 
gence was necessary, how much more requisite 
is it now! 

But, to the exercise of this diligence, a suffi- 
ciency in all things is promised. What does a 
Minister require? In all these respects the pro- 
mise is applicable to him. He needs, for instance, 
courage and patience : he may, therefore, expect 
that the Holy Spirit will enable him for the exer- 
cise of these graces. 

A Minister may expect more superintendence, 
more elevation, than a hearer. It can scarcely 



ON THE CHRISTIAN MINISTRY. 207 

be questioned that he ought to pray for this : if so, 
he has a ground in Scripture thus to pray. 

I have been cured of expecting the Holy Spirit's 
influence without due preparation on our part, by 
observing how men preach who take up that error. 
I have heard such men talk nonsense by the 
hour. 

We must combine Luther with St. Paul — 
" JBeni orasse est berth studuisse" must be united 
with St. Paul's Meditate upon these things : give 
thyself wholly to them, that thy profiting may 
appear to all. One errs who says, " 1 will preach 
a reputable sermon :" and another errs who says, 
" I will leave all to the assistance of the Holy 
Spirit," while he has neglected a diligent pre- 
paration. 



ox 

PREACHING CHRIST. 



" We preach Christ Crucified" 1 Cor. i. 23. 



Christ is God's great ordinance. Nothing*, 
ever has been done, nor will be done to purpose, 
but so far as He is held forth with simplicity. All 
the lines must centre in Him. I feel this in my 
own experience, and therefore I govern my Mi- 
nistry by it : but then this is to be done according 
to the Analogy of Faith — not ignorantly, absurdly, 
and falsely. I doubt not, indeed, but that excess 
on this side is less pernicious than excess on the 
other ; because God will bless His own especial 
Ordinance, though partially understood and par* 
tially exhibited. 



There are many weighty reasons for renderings 
Christ prominent in our Ministry : — 

1. Christ chears the prospect. Every thing con- 
nected with Him has light and gladness thrown 
round it. I look out of my window: — the scene 



ON THE CHRISTIAN MINISTRY* 209 

is scowling— dark— frigid — forbidding: I shud- 
der: my heart is chilled. But, let the Sun break 
forth from the cloud— I can feel — I can act— 
I can spring. 

2. God descending and dwelling with man, is a 
truth so infinitely grand, that it must absorb all 
other. "You are His attendants! Well! But 
the king] There he is! — the king!" 

3. Out of Christ God is not intelligible, much 
less amiable. Such men as Clarke and Abernethy 
talk sublime nonsense. A sick woman said to me 
- — ' Sir ! I have no notion of God. I can form no 
notion of Him. You talk to me about Him, but 
I cannot get a single idea that seems to contain 
anything'— But you know how to conceive of Jesus 
Christ as a man ! God comes down to you in Him, 
full of kindness and condescension. ' Ah ! Sir, 
that gives me something to lay hold on. There 
I can rest I understand God in His Son.' But 
if God is not iJitelligible out of Christ, much less 
is He amiable, though I ought to feel Him so. He 
is an object of horror and aversion to me, cor- 
rupted as I am! I fear — I tremble — I resist — 
I hate— I rebel. 

4. A preacher may pursue his Topic, without 
being led by it to Christ. A man who is accus- 
tomed to investigate topics is in danger. He 
takes up his topic, and pursues it. He takes up 
another, and pursues it. At length Jesus Christ 
becomes his topic, and then he pursues that. Tf 

t P 



210 



REMAINS. 



he cannot so feel and think as to bend all subjects 
naturally and gracefully to Christ, he must 
seek his remedy in selecting such as are more 
evangelical. 

5. God puts peculiar honour on the preaching of 
Christ crucified. A philosopher may philosophize 
his hearers, but the preaching of Christ must 
convert them. John the Baptist will make his 
hearers tremble ; but, if the least in the kingdom 
of heaven is greater than he, let him exhibit that 
peculiar feature of his superiority— Jesus Christ. 
Men may preach Christ ignorantly — blunderingly 
— absurdly: yet God will give it efficacy, be- 
cause He is determined to magnify his own 
ordinance. 

6. God seems, in the doctrine of the Cross, to 
design the destruction of man's pride. Even the 
murderer and the adulterer sometimes become 
subjects of the grace of the Gospel, because the 
murderer and adulterer are more easily convinced 
and humbled : but the man of virtue is seldom 
reached, because the man of virtue disdains to 
descend. Remember me, saved a dying malefactor! 
—God, I thank Thee, condemned a proud 
Pharisee ! 



Every Minister should therefore enquire, "What 

IS FOR ME THE WISEST WAY OF PREACHING CHRIST 

to men?" Some seem to think that in the choice 



ON THE CHRISTIAN MINISTRY. 211 

of a wise way, there lurks always a trimming 
disposition. There are men, doubtless, who will 
sacrifice to Self, even Christ Jesus the Lord: but 
they, of all men, are farthest from the thing. 
There is a secret in doing it, which none but an 
honest man can discover. The knave is not half 
wise enough. 

We are not to judge one another in these things. 
Sufficient it is to us, to know what we have to do. 
There are different ways of doing the same thing, 
and that with success and acceptance. We see 
this in the Apostles themselves. They not only 
preached Christ in different ways; but, what is 
more, they could not do this like one another. 
They declare this fact themselves; and acknow- 
ledge the grace of God in their respective gifts. 
Our beloved brother Paul, writes, says St. Peter, 
according to the wisdom given unto him. But 
there are Peters, in our days, who would say — 
" Paul is too learned. Away with these things, 
which are hard to be understood. He should be 
more simple. I dislike all this reasoning." And 
there are Pauls, who would say, " Peter is rash 
and unguarded. He should put a curb on his im- 
petuosity." And there are Johns, who would say, 
" They should both discharge their office in my 
soft and winning manner. No good will come of 
this fire and noise." Nothing of this sort! Each 
hath his proper gift of God; one after this manner 9 
and another after thai: and each seems only 

P2 



212 



REMAINS. 



desirous to occupy faithfully till his Master come, 
leaving his brethren to stand or fall to their oivn 
Master. 

Too much dependence is often placed on a 
system of rational contrivance. An inge- 
nious man thinks he can so manage to preach 
Christ, that his hearers will say — " Here is no- 
thing of Methodism! This has nothing to do 
with that system !" I will venture to say, if this 
is the sentiment communicated by his ministry, 
that he has not delivered his message. The people 
do not know what he means, or he has kept back 
part of God's truth. He has fallen on a carnal 
contrivance, to avoid a cross; and he does no 
good to souls. The whole message must be 
delivered ; and it is better it should be delivered 
even coarsely, than not at all. We may lay it 
down as a principle — That if the Gospel be a 
medicine, and a specific too — as it is — it must 
be got down such as it is. Any attempt to so- 
phisticate and adulterate will deprive it of its effi- 
cacy ; and will often recoil on the man who makes 
the attempt, to his shame and confusion. The 
Jesuits tried to render Christianity palatable to 
the Chinese by adulterating it, but the Jesuits 
were driven with abhorrence from the empire. 

If we have to deal with t men of learning, let 
us shew learning so far as to demonstrate that 
it bears its testimony to the Truth. But accom- 
modation in manner must often spring from 



ON THE CHRISTIAN MINISTRY. 213 

humility. We must condescend to the capacities 
of men, and make the truth intelligible to them. 

If this be our manner of preaching Christ, we 
must make up our minds not to regard the little 
caviller, who will judge us by the standard of his 
favourite author or preacher. We must be cau- 
tious, too, since men of God have been and ever 
will be the butt and scorn of the world, of think- 
ing that we can escape its sneers and censures. 
It is a foolish project-— To avoid giving offence ; 
but it is our duty, To avoid giving unnecessary 
offence. It is necessary offence, if it is given by 
the Truth ; but it is unnecessary, if our own spirit 
occasion it. 

I have often thought that St. Paul was raised 
up peculiarly to be an example to others, in la- 
bouring to discover the wisest way of exhibiting 
the Gospel: not only that he was to be a great 
pattern in other points, but designedly raised up 
for this very thing. How does he labour to make 
the truth reasonably plain ! How does he 
strain every nerve and ransack every corner of the 
heart, to make it reasonably palatable! We 
need not be instructed in his particular meaning 
when he says, I became all things to all men, if by 
any means I might save some. His history is a 
comment on the declaration. 

The knowledge of Jesus Christ is a wonderful 
mystery. Some men think they preach Christ 
gloriously, because they name him every two 



214 



REMAINS. 



minutes in their Sermons. But that is not preach- 
ing Christ. To understand, and enter into, and 
open his various offices and characters— the glories 
of his person and work — his relation to us, and 
ours to Him, and to God the Father and God the 
Spirit through him — this is the knowledge of 
Christ. The Divines of the present day are 
stunted dwarfs in this knowledge, compared with 
the great men of the last age. To know Jesus 
Christ for ourselves, is to make him a consola- 
tion, — DELIGHT, — STRENGTH, — RIGHTEOUSNESS, 

— companion, — and end. 

This is the aspect in which religion should 
be presented to mankind: it is suited, above all 
other, to produce effect; and Effect is our object. 
We must take human nature, as we find human 
nature. We must take human nature in great 
cities, as we find human nature in great cities. 
We may say — " this or that is the aspect 
which ought to have most effect : we must illu- 
minate the mind : we must enlist the reason : we 
must attack the conscience." We may do all this, 
and yet our comparative want of success in beget- 
ting and educating the Sons of Glory, may demon- 
strate to us that there is some more Effective way; 
and that sound sense and philosophy call on us 
to adopt that way, because it is most Effective. 

Our system of preaching must meet mankind : 
they must find it possible to live in the bustle 
of the world, and yet serve God : after being 



ON THE CHRISTIAN MINISTRY. 215 

worried and harrassed with its concerns, let them 
hear chearing truths concerning Christ's Love and 
Care and Pity, which will operate like an enchant- 
ment in dispelling the cares of life and calming 
the anxious perturbations of conscience. Bring 
forward privileges and enforce duties, in their 
proper places and proportions. 

Let there be no extremes : yet I am arrived 
at this conviction : — Men, who lean toward the 
extreme of evangelical privileges in their mi- 
nistry, do much more to the conversion of their 
hearers ; than they do, who lean toward the 
extreme of requirement. And my own expe- 
rience confirms my Observation. I feel myself 
repelled, if anything chills, loads, or urges me. 
This is my nature, and I see it to be very much 
the nature of other men. But, let me hear, Son 
of man, thou hast played the harlot ivith many 
lovers ; yet return again to me, saith the Lord — 
I am melted and subdued. 



A MINISTER'S 

FAMILIAR INTERCOURSE WITH HIS HEARERS. 



What passes, on these occasions, too often 
savours of this world. We become one among 
our hearers. They come to Church on Sunday ; 
and we preach: the week comes round again, 
and its nonsense with it. Now if a Minister 
were what he should be, the people would feel 
it. They would not attempt to introduce this 
dawdling, silly, diurnal chat! When we coun- 
tenance this, it looks as though, " On the Sunday 
I am ready to do my business ; and, in the week, 
you may do yours." This lowers the tone of what 
I say on the Sabbath. It forms a sad comment 
on my preaching. 

I have traced, I think, some of the evil that 
lies at the root of this. We are more concerned 
to be thought Gentlemen, than to be felt as Mini- 
sters. Now being desirous to be thought a man 
who has kept good company, strikes at the root 



ON THE CHRISTIAN MINISTRY. 217 

of that rough work — the bringing of God into 
his own world. It is hard and rough work to 
bring God into his own world. To talk of a 
Creator, and Preserver, and Redeemer, is an 
outrage on the feelings of most companies. 

There is important truth in what Mr. Wesley 
said to his preachers, when rightly understood, 
however it may have been ridiculed : — " You 
have no more to do with being Gentlemen, than 
Dancing Masters." The character of a Minister 
is far beyond that of a mere Gentleman. It takes 
a higher walk. He will, indeed, study to be a 
real gentleman: he will be the farthest possible 
from a rude man : he will not disdain to learn nor 
to practice the decencies of society: but he will 
sustain a still higher character. 

It is a snare to a Minister when in company, 
to be drawn out to converse largely on the state 
of the Funds, and on the News of the day. He 
should know the world, and what is doing in the 
world, and should give things of this nature their 
due place and proportion ; but if he can be drawn 
out to give twenty opinions on this or that subject 
of politics or literature, he is lowered in his tone. 
A man of sense feels something violent in the tran- 
sition from such conversation to the Bible and to 
Prayer. 

Dinner Visits can seldom be rendered really 
profitable to the mind. The company are so 
much occupied, that little good is to be done. 



218 



REMAINS. 



A Minister should shew his sense of the value 
of time : it is a sad thing when those around him 
begin to yawn. He must be a man of business. 
It is not sufficiently considered how great the sin 
of idleness is. We talk in the pulpit of the 
value of time, but we act too little on what 
we say. 

Let a Minister who declines associating much 
with his hearers, satisfy himself that he has a 
good reason for doing so. If reproached for not 
visiting them so much as they wish, let him have 
a just reason to assign. A man who is at work 
for his family, may have as much love for them as 
the wife, though she is always with them. 

I fell into a mistake, when a young man, in 
thinking that I could talk with men of the world 
on their own ground, and could thus win them 
over to mine. I was fond of painting, and so 
talked with them on that subject. This pleased 
them : but I did not consider that I gave a con- 
sequence to their pursuits which does not belong 
to them; whereas I ought to have endeavoured to 
raise them above these, that they might engage 
in higher. I did not see this at the time : but I 
now see it to have been a great error. A wealthy 
man builds a fine house, and opens to himself fine 
prospects : he wants you to see them, for he is 
sick of them himself. They thus draw you into 
their schemes. A man has got ten thousand 
pounds: you congratulate him on it, and that 



ON THE CHRISTIAN MINISTRY. 219 

without any intimation of his danger or his respon- 
sibility. Now you may tell him in the pulpit that 
riches are nothing worth ; but you will tell him 
this in vain, while you tell him out of it that 
they are. 

Lord Chesterfield says a man's character is 
degraded when he is to be had. A Minister 
ought never to be had. 



o y 



A MINISTER'S 

ENCOURAGING 

ANIMADVERSION ON HIMSELF. 



It is a serious enquiry for a Minister, how far 

HE SHOULD ENCOURAGE ANIMADVERSION ON HIM- 
SELF in his hearers. He will encounter many 
ignorant and many censorious remarks, but he 
may gain much on the whole. 

He should lay down to himself a few principles. 

It is better that a Minister smart than mistake. 
It is better that a traveller meet a surly, imper- 
tinent fellow to direct him his way, than lose his 
way. A Minister is so important in his office, 
that, whatever others think of it, he should regard 
this and this only as the transaction for eternity. 
But a man may be labouring in the fire : he may 
be turning the world upside down, and yet be 
wrong. You say he must read his Bible. True ! 
but he must use all means. He must build his 
usefulness on this principle — if by any means. If 
the wheel hitches, let him, by any means, discover 



ON THE CHRISTIAN MINISTRY. 221 



"where it hitches. This principle is to be worked 
continually in his mind. He must labour to keep 
it up to a fine> keen edge. Let him never believe 
that his view of himself is sufficient. A merchant, 
sailing in quest of gain, is so intent on his object 
that he will take a hint from any man. If we 
had all the meaning to which we pretend in our 
pursuits, we should feel and act like him. 

A Minister must lay it down also as a principle, 
that he will never sufficiently understand his own 
pride and self -love ; and that confidence in his own 
sense, which cleaves closely to every man. He 
must consider this as the general malady. Man 
is blind and obstinate — poor and proud. This 
silly creature, through ignorance of this principle, 
will not only not hear a vulgar hearer, who ani- 
madverts on him ; but he will scarcely listen to a 
superior man among his hearers. He attends to 
such a one, because it would be indecent not to 
attend. But he finds some excuse for himself in 
his own bosom. He reverences what is said very 
little, if at all. He strokes and flatters himself, 
and makes up the affair very well in his own 
mind. 

A Minister should consider how much more 
easily a weak man can read a wise man, than a 
wise man can read himself: and that for this reason 
-—no man can see and hear himself. He is too 
much formed in his own habits — his family notions 
- his closet notions — to detect himself. He, who 



222 



REMAINS. 



stands by and sees a game played, has vast ad* 
vantages over the players. Besides, preachers err 
system atically — learnedly — scientifically. The 
simple hearer has an appeal to nature in his heart. 
He can often feel that his Minister is wrong, when 
he is not able to set him right. Dr. Manton, no 
doubt, thought he had preached well, and as 
became him, before the Lord Mayor ; but he felt 
himself reproved and instructed, when a poor man 
pulled him by the sleeve, and told him he had 
understood nothing of his sermon: there was an 
appeal in this poor man's breast to nature: nature 
could not make any thing of the Doctor's learning. 
When Apelles took his stand behind his picture, 
he was a wise man : and he was a wise man too, 
when he altered the shoe on the hint of the cobler : 
the cobler, in his place, was to be heard. 

A Minister should consider, too, that few will 
venture to speak to a public man. It is a rare thing 
to hear a man say — " Upon my word that thing, 
or your general manner, is defective or improper." 
If a wise man says this, he shews a regard, which 
the united stock of five hundred flatterers will not 
equal. I would set down half the blunders of 
Ministers to their not listening to animadversion. 
I have heard it said — for the men, who would ani- 
madvert on us, talk among themselves, if we 

refuse to let them talk to us 1 have heard it 

said, " Why don't you talk to him?"— "Why 
don't I talk to him! because he will not hear!" 



ON THE CHRISTIAN MINISTRY. 223 

Let him consider, moreover, that this aversion 
from reproof is not wise. This is a symptom of 
the disease. Why should he want this hushing- 
up of the disorder? This is a mark of a little mind. 
A great man can afford to lose : a little insignifi- 
cant fellow is afraid of being snuffed out. 

A Minister mistakes who should refuse to read 
any anonymous letters. He may, perhaps, see 
nothing in them the first time; but, let him read 
them again and again. The writer raises his su- 
perstructure, probably, on a slight basis; yet 
there is generally some sort of occasion. If he 
points out but a small error, yet that is worth 
detecting. 

In the present habits of men, it is so difficult 
to get them to tell the naked truth, that a Mini- 
ster should shew a disposition to be corrected : 
he should shew himself to be sensible of the want 
of it. He is not to encourage idle people : that 
could be productive of no possible good. 

These are some of the reasons for a Minister's 
encouragement, in a judicious manner, of animad- 
version on himself in his hearers. 

Sometimes, however, a man will come who 
appears to be an impertinent man, independently 
of what he has to remark — a man who is evidently 
disposed to be troublesome. Such a man came 
to me, with—" Sir, you said such a thing that 
seemed to lean to the doctrine of universal re- 
demption. Pray, Sir, may I speak a little with 



224 



you on that subject?" The manner of the matt 
at once marked his character. He seemed to 
bring with him this kind of sentiment — " I'll go 
and set that man right. I'll call that man to ac- 
count." It was a sort of democratic insolence of 
mind. Instead of answering him as he expected, 
I treated him as a child. I turned it into an oc- 
casion of preaching a sermon to him : — " Sir, do 
you come to instruct me, or to be instructed ? Be- 
fore we enter on a question which has exercised 
the greatest men, we want a preparedness of 
mind : want a deep humility — a teachableness — 
a spirit of dependence — of which you seem to me 
to have but little." 

On the other hand, a man may come, quite as 
ignorant as the other, yet a simple character. I 
have distressed him. Though he cannot, perhaps, 
be made to understand what he enquires about — 
yet a Minister should say to himself, " Have I 
puzzled him? He is wounded, and he comes for 
help." 

A Minister should remember that he is not 
always to act and speak authoritatively. He 
sits on his friend's chair, and his friend says his 
things to him with frankness. They may want, 
perhaps, a little decorum ; but he should receive 
them in the most friendly and good-humoured 
way in the world. A thing strikes this man and 
that man : he may depend on it, that it has some 
foundation. 



ON THE CHRISTIAN MINISTRY. 



225 



But there are persons, whom a Minister should 
more than encourage to animadvert on him, He 
should employ them. He should explain himself 
to them. He does not merely want an account 
of his sermon, but he employs them on business. 
To such sensible persons, he will say — " What 
serious judgment do you form of my preaching? 
Do tell me what sort of man I am." 

A Minister has to treat with another sort of 
hearers — uncandid men, and yet men of capacity: 
a sort of men, who are not now pleased, and then 
displeased. They spy a blot every where. He 
is likely to make a mistake with regard to such 
men: — " What signifies the opinion of that man? 
That man can never be pleased." True ! that 
man cannot be pleased, but it does not follow 
that he tells you no truth. In treating with such 
a man, he should say — " His edge may be too 
keen, for candour and sound judgment ; yet, if it 
lays open to me what I could not otherwise see, 
let me improve by its keenness. What hurt, can 
he do me? He may damp or irritate others, by 
talking thus to them; but, let me learn what is to 
be learnt from him." Such a man lifts a Minister 
from his standing, where he settles down too easily 
and firmly. If I know a man to be of this class, 
I will distinguish: " This is the man : but that is 
myself!" If I would write a book to stand the 
fire, let me find out the severest censor. My friend 
is but half the man : there is a consentaneousness 

t Q 



226 



REMAINS. 



of sentiment between us : we have fallen in to- 
gether, till we scarcely know how to differ from 
each other. Let the man come who says — " Here 
I can discover you to yourself ; and there!" The 
best hints perhaps are obtained from snarling 
people. Medicaments make the patient smart, 
but they heal. 

Yet a Minister must not take this in the gross. 
He is not to invite rude men round his door. If 
he suffer his hearers to treat him irreverently— if 
he allow them to dispute with him on every oc- 
casion — he will bring ruin on the Church. The 
Priest's lips must keep knowledge. If a parent 
allow his children to question every thing, so that 
nothing is to be settled without a hundred proofs, 
they will soon despise their teacher, for they will 
think themselves able to teach him. The Mi- 
nister must have decided superiority and authority, 
or he will want one of the principal qualities of 
his ministry. This is not inconsistent with re- 
ceiving hints. He may mistake in some things : 
but he should mark the complexion of his con- 
gregation in deciding how far they are to be heard 
on his mistakes. If the people are heady, for- 
ward, confident in their own sense, they are never 
to be encouraged. They are gone too far. 



ON THE LIMITS, 



WHICH A MINISTER SHOULD PUT TO THE 
INDULGENCE OF HIS CURIOSITY, 



WITH REGARD TO 



PUBLIC EXHIBITIONS. 



An extreme is to be avoided. Some persons 
would condemn even rational curiosity. But 
the ivorks of the Lord are great: sought out of 
all them that have pleasure therein. I would not 
object, therefore, to visit the Museum; or to go 
to see the rare natural productions often exhibited. 
I would enlarge, too, my views of man and the 
world, by frequenting the Panoramas of Cities. 
And, though I would not run after every sight, 
yet I would use my liberty in selecting. 

But some are in an opposite extreme. They 
are found every where. But he, who sustains 
the character of a scribe of the kingdom of heaven, 
ought not to be found every where. The man, 
who is seeking a heavenly country, will shew the 
spirit of one whose conversation is there. 

Q2 



228 



REMAINS. 



There is something in religion, when rightly 
apprehended, that is masculine and grand. It 
removes those little desires, which are " the 
constant hectic of a fool." 

Every thing of the drama, and whatever is so 
distinctly the course of this world, must be 
shunned. If a Minister take one step into the 
world, his hearers will take two. Much may be 
learnt from the sentiments of men of the world. 
If a man of this character who heard me preach, 
should meet me where he would say, " Why I did 
not expect to see you here !" — then he ought not 
to have seen me there. 

There must be measure and proportion in our 
attention to Arts and Sciences. These were the 
very idols of the heathen world : and what are 
they, who now follow them with an idolatrous 
eagerness, but like children, who are charmed 
with the sparkling of a rocket, and yet see nothing 
in the sun? 

Yet I would not indulge a cynical temper. If 
I go through a gentleman's Gallery of Pictures, 
I would say, " This is an admirable Claude!" — 
but I would take occasion to drop a hint of some- 
thing higher and better, and to make it felt that I 
fell in with these things rather incidentally than 
purposely. But all this must be done with ten- 
derness and humility: " I tread on the pride of 
Plato," said Diogenes, as he walked over Plato's 
carpet : Yes— and with more pride," said Plato. 



ON THE CHRISTIAN MINISTRY. 229 



" They pass best over the world," said Queen 
Elizabeth, " who trip over it quickly ; for it is but 
a bog. If we stop, we sink." 

I would not make it my criterion — " Christ 
would not come hither !" J must take a lower 
standard in these things. I am a poor creature, 
and must be contented to learn in many places 
and by many scenes, which Christ need not to 
have frequented. 



ON THE MEANS OF 



PROMOTING A SPIRIT OF DEVOTION 

IN 

CONGREGATIONS 



LET us ask, " What is man?" He is a crea- 
ture of feeling, as well as of intellect. We must 
interest him as we can. It is unphilosophical 
to depend on the mere statement of truth. No 
doubt there is a contrary error : for what is the 
end of exciting attention, if there is nothing de- 
serving attention ? 

It is of the first importance, to put meaning 
into every part of the service. In either extreme, 
of appealing to the understanding or the feelings, 
there may be no meaning: in a dull and lifeless 
preacher, there is no meaning ; and, in one of a 
contrary character, there may be nothing worthy 
of the name. 

There is, besides, too little attention, in 
many Churches, to man as man. I would con- 
sult his convenience in all lawful points. If he 
could sit easier on cushions, he should have 



ON THE CHRISTIAN MINISTRY. 231 



cushions. I would not tell him to be warm in 
God's service, while I leave him to shiver with 
cold. No doors should creak : no windows should 
rattle. 

Music has an important effect on devotion. 
Wherever fantastical music enters, it betrays a 
corrupt principle. A congregation cannot enter 
into it; or, if it does, it cannot be a Christian 
congregation. Wherever there is an attempt to 
set off the music in the service, and the attempt 
is apparent, it is the first step toward carnality. 
Though there is too little life in the style of music 
adopted among the Moravians, yet the simplicity 
of Christianity pervades their devotion. 

Order is important. Some persons, by coming 
in when they please, propagate a loose habit of 
mind. For man is a sympathetic creature ; and 
what he sees others neglect, he is in danger of 
growing negligent in himself. If the reader goes 
through the Service as though the great business 
for which they are assembled is not yet begun, 
the people will soon feel thus themselves. 

The Minister should take occasion frequently 
to impress on the people the importance of the 
work in which they are engaged. It is not 
enough to take it for granted that they feel this. 
We must take nothing for granted. Man needs 
to be reminded of every thing, for he soon forgets 
every thing. 

Monotony must be, above all things, avoided, 



232 



REMAINS. 



The mind is vagrant : monotony cannot recal it. 
There may be continued vehemence, while the 
attention is not excited: it is disturbance and 
noise: there is nothing to lead the mind into a 
useful train of thought or feeling. 

There is an opposite error to vehemence. Men 
of sense and literature depress devotion by treat- 
ing things abstractedly. Simplicity, with good 
sense, is of unspeakable value. Religion must 
not be rendered abstract and curious. If a curious 
remark presents itself, reserve it for another place. 
The hearer gets away from the bustle and business 
of the week: he comes trembling under his fears : 
he would mount upward in his spirit : but a 
curious, etymological disquisition chills and repels 
him. 

In truth, we should be men of business in our 
congregations. We should endeavour both to 
excite and instruct our hearers. We should render 
the service an interesting affair in all its parts. 
We should rouse men: we should bind up the 
broken - hearted: we should comfort the feeble- 
minded: we should suppor^the weak: we should 
become all things to all men, if by any means we 
may save some. 



ON THfe 



MARRIAGE 

OF 

CHRISTIAN MINISTERS. 



It seems to me, that many men do not give 
sufficient weight to our Lord's observations upon 
those who made themselves Eunuchs for the King* 
dom of Heavens sake, nor to St. Paul's reasoning 
on the subject of marriage. I would only imply, 
that both our Lord and the Apostle seem to es- 
tablish it as a principle, that a single state, when 
it can be chosen and is chosen for the sake of the 
Gospel, is the superior state. This, I fear, is too 
much forgotten ; and those men, who might have 
received the saying, and have done more service to 
the Church of God by receiving it, have given it 
little or no weight in their deliberations. 

And yet it ought to be considered, that the very 
character which would best fit men for living in a 
single state, would abstract them too much from 
the feelings and wants of their people. I am fully 
sensible that I should have been hardened against 
the distresses of my hearers, if I had not been 



234 



REMAINS. 



teduced from my natural stoicism by domestic 
sufferings. 

The cases, I allow, are extremely few, in 
which a man may do, on the whole, more service 
to the Church by imitating St. Paul than by mar- 
rying: yet there are such cases; and it behoves 
every Minister seriously to consider himself and 
his situation, before he determines on marriage. 
He should not regard this state as indispensably 
necessary to him, but should always remember, 
that, ceteris paribus, he, who remains single, is 
most worthy of honour. 

But, when it is proper that a Minister should 
marry, and he has determined to do it, how few 
select such women as suit their high and holy 
character ! A Minister is like a man who has un- 
dertaken to traverse the world. He has not only 
fair and pleasant ground to travel over, but he 
must encounter desarts and marshes and moun- 
tains. The traveller wants a firm and steady stay. 
His wife should be, above all things, a woman of 
faith and prayer — a woman, too, of a sound mind 
and of a tender heart — and one who will account 
it her glory to lay herself out in co-operating with 
her husband, by meeting his wants and soothing 
his cares. She should be his unfailing resource, 
so far as he ought to seek this in the creature. 
Blessed is she, who is thus qualified and thus 
lives! 

But, after all, the married Minister, if he 



ON THE CHRISTIAN MINISTRY. 235 

would live devotedly, must move in a determined 
sphere. Whatever his wife may be, yet she is a 
woman — and if things are to go on well they must 
have two separate worlds. There may, indeed, 
be cases, when a man, with something of a soft 
and feminine cast about his mind, may be united 
to a woman of a mind so superior and cultivated, 
that he may chuse to make it his plan that they 
shall move in the same world. In such rare cases 
it may be done with less inconvenience than in any 
other. But, even here, the highest end is sacri- 
ficed to feeling. Every man, whatever be his na- 
tural disposition, who would urge his powers to 
the highest end, must be a man of solitary studies. 
Some uxorious men of considerable minds have 
moved so much in the women's world, that re- 
flection, disquisition, and the energies of thought 
have been ruined by the habit of indulging the 
lighter, softer, and more playful qualities. Such 
a man is, indeed, the idol of the female world ; 
but he would rather deserve to be so, if he stood 
upon his own ground while he attempted to meet 
their wants, instead of descending to mingle 
among them. 

God has put a difference between the sexes, 
but education and manners have put a still 
greater. They are designed to move in separate 
spheres, but occasionally to unite together in 
order to soften and relieve each other. To at- 
tempt any subversion of God's design herein is 



236 



REMAINS. 



being wiser than He who made us ; and who has 
so established this affair, that each sex has its 
separate and appropriate excellence — only to be 
attained by pursuing it in the order of nature. 
Thought is or ought to be the characterizing 
feature of the man, and Feeling that of the 
woman. 

Every man and woman in the world has an 
appropriate mind ; and that, in proportion to their 
strength of thought and feeling. Each has a way 
of their own — a habit — a system — a world — se- 
parated and solitary, in which no person on earth 
can have communion with them. Job says of God, 
He knoweth the way that I take; and, when the 
Christian finds a want of competency in his bosom 
friend to understand and meet his way, he turns 
with an especial nearness and familiarity of con- 
fidence to God, who knoweth it in all its connec- 
tions and associations, its peculiarities and its 
imperfections. 

I may be thought to speak harshly of the female 
character; but, whatever persuasion I have of its 
intended distinction from that of man, I esteem a 
woman, who aims only to be what God designed 
her to be, as honourable as any man on earth. 
She stands not in the same order of excellence, 
but she is equally honourable. 

But women have made themselves, and weak 
men have contributed to make them, what God 
never designed them to be. Let any thinking 



ON THE CHRISTIAN MINISTRY. 237 

man survey the female character as it now stands 
— often nervous, debilitated, and imaginative, and 
this superinduced chiefly by education and man- 
ners — and he will find it impossible that any great 
vigour of mind can be preserved or any high intel- 
lectual pursuits cultivated, so far as this character 
stands in his way. 

" Doing as others do," is the prevalent prin- 
ciple of the present female character, to whatever 
absurd, preposterous, masculine, or even wicked 
lengths it may lead. This is, so far as it avails 
with man or woman, the ruin, death, and grave of 
all that is noble, and virtuous, and praise-worthy. 

A studious man, whose time is chiefly spent at 
home, and especially a Minister, ought not to have 
to meet the imaginary wants of his wife. The 
disorders of an imaginative mind are beyond cal- 
culation. He is not worthy the name of a hus- 
band, who will not, with delight, nurse his wife, 
with all possible tenderness and love, through a 
real visitation however long; but he is ruined, if 
he falls upon a woman of a sickly fancy. It is 
scarcely to be calculated what an influence the 
spirit of his wife will have on his own, and on all 
his ministerial affairs. If she comes not up to the 
full standard, she will so far impede him, derange 
him, unsanctify him. 

If there is such a thing as good in this world, 
it is in the ministerial office. The affairs of this 
employment are the greatest in the world. In 



238 



REMAINS. 



prosecuting these with a right spirit, the Minister 
keeps in motion a vast machine ; and, such are the 
incalculable consequences of his wife's character 
to him, that, if she assist him not in urging forward 
the machine, she will hang as a dead weight upon 
its wheels. 

A woman may have a high taste : her natural 
temper may be peevish and fretful : she may have 
a delicate and fastidious mind : she may long for 
every thing she sees. It is not enough that she is, 
in reality, a pious woman. Her taste, her mind, 
her manners, must have a decorum and congruity 
to her husband's office and situation. She must 
bear to be crossed in her wishes for unsuitable 
objects : he will say, with firmness, " This shall 
not be. It is not enough, that it would gratify 
you : it is wrong. It is not enough, that it is not 
flagrantly sinful: it is improper, unsuitable to our 
character and station # . It is not enough that 
money will buy it, and I have got money: it 
would be a culpable use of our talent. It is not 
enough that your friend possesses such a thing : 
we stand and fall to our own Master." 

* Nec, tibi quid Ikeat, sed quidfecisse decebit, 
Oceuirat,— Claudian. 

J. P. 



OH 

VISITING DEATH -BEDS. 



I HAVE found it, in many cases, a difficult 
thing to deal with a Death-Bed. We are called 
in to Death-Beds of various kinds : — 

The True Pilgrim sends for us to set before 
him the food on which he has fed throughout 
his journey. He has a keen appetite. He wants 
strength and vigour for the last effort; and, then, 
all is for-ever well ! He is gone home, and is at 
rest ! 

Another man sends for us, because it is decent; 
or his friends importune him; or his conscience i$ 
alarmed : but he is ignorant of Sin and of Salva- 
tion: he is either indifferent about both, or he has 
made up his mind in his own way: he wants the 
Minister to confirm him in his own views, and 
smooth over the wound. I have seen such men 
mad with rage, while I have been beating down 
their refuges of lies, and setting forth to them 
God's refuge. There is a wise and holy medium to 
be observed in treating such cases:—" I am not 
come to daub you over with witempered mortar: 



240 



REMAINS. 



I am not come to send you to the bar of God with 
a lie in your right-hand. But neither am I come 
to mortify you, to put you to unnecessary pain, 
to embitter you, or to exasperate you." There is 
a kindness, affection, tenderness, meekness, and 
patience, which a man's feelings and conscience 
will condemn him while he opposes ! I have found 
it a very effectual method to begin with myself : it 
awakens attention, conciliates the mind, and in- 
sinuates conviction :— - " Whatever others think of 
themselves, I stand condemned before God: my 
heart is so desperately ivicked, that, if God had 
not shewed me in his Word a remedy in Jesus 
Christ, I should be in despair : I can only tell you 
what I am, and what I have found. If you be- 
lieve yourselves to be what God has told me I am 
and all men are, then I can tell you where and 
how to find Mercy and Eternal Life : if you will 
not believe that you are this sort of man, I have 
nothing to offer you. I know of nothing else for 
man, beside that which God has shewed me." 
My descriptions of my own fallen nature have ex- 
cited perfect astonishment: sometimes my patients 
have seemed scarcely able to credit me ; but I 
have found that God has fastened, by this means, 
conviction on the conscience. In some cases, an 
indirect method of addressing the conscience may 
apparently be, in truth, the most direct; but we 
are to use this method wisely and sparingly. It 
seems to me to be one of the characteristics of the 



ON THE CHRISTIAN MINISTRY. 241 



day, in the religious world, to err on this subject. t 
We have found out a circuitous way of exhi- 
biting Truth. The plain, direct, simple exhi- 
bition of it is often abandoned* even where no 
circumstances justify and require a more insinu- 
ating manner. There is Dexterity indeed, and 
Address in this; but too little of the simple 
Declaration of the testimony of God, which St. 
Paul opposes to excellency of speech or of tvisdom, 
and to enticing words of mans wisdom. We have 
done very little when we have merely persuaded 
men to think as we do. 

But we have to deal with a worse Death-Bed 
character, than with the man who opposes the 
Truth. Some men assent to every thing, which 
we propose. They will even anticipate us. And 
yet we see that they mean nothing. I have often 
felt when with such persons : " I would they could 
be brought to contradict and oppose! That 
would lead to discussion. God might, perad- 
venture, dash the stony heart in pieces. But this 
heart is like water. The impression dies as fast 
as it is made." I have sought for such views as 
might rouze and stir up opposition. I have tried 
to irritate the torpid mind. But all in vain. I 
once visited a young Clergyman of this character, 
who was seized with a dangerous illness at a 
Coffee-house in town, whither some business had 
brought him : the first time I saw him, we con- 
versed very closely together; and, in the prospect 
t R 



242 



REMAINS* 



of Death he seemed solicitous to prepare for it. 
But I could make no sort of impression upon him : 
all I could possibly say met his entire approba- 
tion, though I saw his heart felt no interest in it. 
When I visited him a second time, the fear of 
death was gone ; and, with it, all solicitude about 
religion. He was still civil and grateful, but he 
tried to parry off the business on which he knew 
I came. " I will shew you, Sir, some little things 
with which I have worne away the hours of my 
confinement and solitude." He brought out a 
quantity of pretty and tasty drawings. I was at a 
loss how to express, with suitable force and deli- 
cacy, the high sense I felt of his Indecorum and 
Insipidity, and to leave a deep impression on his 
conscience — I rose, however, instantly — said my 
time w as expired — wished him well, and withdrew. 

Sometimes we have a painful part to act with 
sincere men, who have been carried too much 
into the world. I was called in to visit such a 
man. f I find no comfort," he said. " God veils 
his face from me. Every thing round me is dark 
and uncertain." I did not dare to act the flatterer. 
I said — " Let us look faithfully into the state of 
things. I should have been surprized if you had 
not felt thus. I believe you to be sincere. Your 
state of feelings evinces your sincerity. Had I 
found you exulting in God, I should have con- 
cluded that you were either deceived or a de- 
ceiver: for, while God acts in his usual order, 



ON THE CHRISTIAN MINISTRY. 243 

how could you expect to feel otherwise on the 
approach of death, than you do feel ? You have 
driven hard after the world. Your spirit has been 
absorbed in its cares. Your sentiment — your 
conversation have been in the spirit of the world. 
And have you any reason to expect the response 
of conscience, and the clear evidence, which 
await the man who has walked and lived in close 
friendship with God ? You know that what I say 
is true." His wife interrupted me, by assuring me 
that he had been an excellent man. " Silence!" 
said the dying penitent, " it is all true!" 

Soon after I came to St. John's, I was called 
on to visit a dying lady, whom I saw many times 
before her death. I found that she had taken God 
for her portion and rest. She approached him 
with the penitence of a sinner grateful for his pro- 
vision of mercy in Christ. She told me she had 
found religion in her Common Prayer Book. She 
blessed God that she had " always been kept 
steady to her Church; and that she had never fol- 
lowed the people called Methodists, who were 
seducing so many on all sides." I thought it 
would be unadviseable to attempt the removal of 
prejudices, which, in her dying case, w ere harm- 
less ; and which would soon be removed bv the 
light which would beam in on her glorified soul. 
We had more interesting subjects of conversation, 
from which this would have led us away. Some 

persons may tax her with a want of charity : but.. 

R 2 



244 



REMAINS. 



alas ! I fear they are persons, who, knowing more 
than she did of the doctrines of the Gospel, have 
so little of its divine charity in their hearts, that, 
as they cannot allow for her prejudices, neither 
would they have been the last to stigmatize her as 
a dead formalist and a pharisee. God knoweth 
them that are his ; and they are often seen by him, 
where we see them not. Were a benighted inha- 
bitant of Otaheite to feel the wretchedness of his 
present life, and lift up his soul to the God he 
worshipped as a Supreme Being for happiness, no 
doubt God would hear such a prayer. 



MISCELLANEOUS REMARKS, 



CHRISTIAN MINISTRY. 



EvERY book really worth a Minister's study- 
ing, he ought, if possible, to have in his own 
library. I have used large libraries, but I soon 
left them. Time was frittered away : my mind 
was unconcentrated. Besides, the habit which 
it begets of turning over a multitude of books, 
is a pernicious habit. And the usual contents of 
such libraries are injurious to a spiritual man, 
whose business it is to transact with men's minds. 
They have a dry, cold, deadening effect. It may 
suit dead men, to walk among the dead ; but send 
not a living man to be chilled among the ruins of 
Tadmor in the Wilderness! 



Christianity is so great and surprizing in its 
nature, that, in preaching it to others, I have no 
encouragement but the belief of a continued 



246 



REMAINS. 



divine operation. It is no difficult thing to change 
a man's opinions. It is no difficult thing to attach 
a man to my person and notions. It is no difficult 
thing to convert a proud man to spiritual pride, 
or a passionate man to passionate zeal for some 
religious party. But, to bring a man to love God 
— to love the law of God, while it condemns him 
— to loath himself before God — to tread the earth 
under his feet— to hunger and thirst after God in 
Christ, and after the mind that was in Christ — 
with man this is impossible ! But God has said it 
shall be done : and bids me go forth and preach, 
that by me, as his instrument, he may effect these 
great ends ; and therefore I go. Yet I am obliged 
continually to call my mind back to my principles. 
I feel angry, perhaps, with a man, because he 
will not let me convert him : in spite of all I can 
say, he will still love the world. 



St. Paul admonishes Timothy to endure hardness 
as a good soldier of Jesus Christ. It sometimes 
falls to the lot of a Minister to endure the hard 
labour of a Nurse, in a greater measure than that 
of a Soldier. He has to encounter the difficulties 
of a peculiar situation : he is the Parent of a family 
of children, of various tempers, manners, habits, 
and prejudices : if he does not continually mortify 
himself, he will bear hardly upon some of his chil- 
dren. He has, however, to endure the hardness 



ON THE CHRISTIAN MINISTRY. 247 



of calling his child — his friend — to an account; 
of being thought a severe, jealous, legal man. 
If a man will let matters take their chance, he 
may live smoothly and quietly enough; but if he 
will stir among the servants, and sift things to the 
bottom, he must bear the consequences. He must 
account himself a Man of Strife. His language 
must be — " It is not enough that you feed me, or 
fill my pocket — there is something between me 
and thee." The most tender and delicate of his 
flock have their failings. His warmest and most 
zealous supporters break down some where. A 
sun-shiny day breeds most reptiles. It is not 
enough, therefore, that the sun shines out in his 
church. It is not enough that numbers shout 
applause. 

A Minister may be placed in a discouraging 
situation. He may not suit the popular taste. 
He may not be able to fall into the fashionable 
style. He may not play well on an instrument. 
Though an effective man, and a man of energy, 
he may be under a cloud. The door may be shut 
against him. Yet it is a dangerous thing for such 
a man to force open the door. He should rather 
say — " I have a lesson to learn here. If I teach 
the people nothing, perhaps they may teach me." 
The work of Winter is to be done, as well as the 
work of Summer. 

The hardness which I have to endure is this — 
Here are a number of families, which shew me 



248 



REMAINS. 



every kind of regard. But I see that they are 
not right. They somehow so combine the things 
which they hear, with the things which they do, 
that I am afraid they will at last lie down in sorrow! 
Here is my difficulty. I must meet them with 
gentleness; but I must detect and uncover the 
evil. I shall want real kindness and common 
honesty, if I do not. Ephraim hath grey haws : 
yet he knoweth it not. Ephraim is a cake not 
turned. But, if I tell him these things, he and I 
shall become two persons. He must however be 
so touched in private ; for he will not be touched 
in the pulpit. He will say " I am not the man," 



A minister must keep under his body, and bring 
it into subjection. A Newmarket - Groom will 
sweat himself thin, that he may be fit for his office : 
Now they do it to obtain a corruptible crown; but 
we> an incorruptible! 



is just come from college. He has a re- 
fined, accurate, sensible mind. Some of our 
friends wish to get him a station at Calcutta. 
They think him just adapted for that sphere. I 
differ widely in my view of the matter. A new 
man, with his college accuracy about him, is not 
the man for the dissipated and fashionable court 
at Calcutta. Such a congregation will bid nothing 



ON THE CHRISTIAN MINISTRY. 249 

for his acuteness and reasoning. He, who is to 
talk to them with any effect, must have seen life 
and the world. He must be able to treat with 
them on their own ground. And he must be able 
to do it with the authority of a messenger from 
God, not with the arts and shifts of human elo- 
quence and reasonings. Dr. Patten said admi- 
rably well, in a sermon which I heard him preach 
at Oxford : " Beware how you suffer the infidel 
to draw you upon metaphysical ground. If he 
get you there, he will have something to say. The 
evidences and the declarations of God's word 
are the weapons with which he must be combated* 
and before which he must fall." 



London is very peculiar as a Ministerial walk. 
Almost all a Minister can do, is, by the Pulpit 
and the Pen. His hearers are so occupied in the 
world, that if he visit them, every minute perhaps 
brings in some interruption. 



It is a serious question — Whether a Minister 
ought to preach at all beyond his experience. He 
is to stand forth as a witness — but a witness of 
what he knows, not of what he has been told. 
Jle must preach as he feels. If he feels not as he 
might and ought, he must pray for such feelings ; 
but, till he has them, ought he to pretend to them? 



250 



REMAINS. 



Going faster than the experience led, has been the 
bane of many. Men have preached in certain 
terms and phrases according to the tone given by 
others, while the thing has never been made out 
even to their conviction, much less in their 
experience. 



It is a most important point of duty, in a Mi- 
nister, to redeem time. A young Minister has 
sometimes called an old one out of his Study, 
only to ask him how he did: there is a tone to be 
observed toward such an idler: an intimation may 
be given, which he will understand, " This is not 
the house!" In order to redeem time, he must 
refuse to engage in secular affairs : No man, that 
warreth, entangleth himself with the affairs of this 
life, that he may please him who hath chosen him 
to be a soldier. He must watch, too, against a 
dozing away of time: the clock-weight goes down 
slowly, yet it draws all the works with it. 



Owen remarks, that it is not sufficiently consi- 
dered how much a Minister's personal religion is 
exposed to danger, from the very circumstance of 
religion being his profession and employment. 
He must go through the acts of religion : he must 
put on the appearances of religion : he must utter 
the language and display the feelings of religion. 



ON THE CHRISTIAN MINISTRY. 



251 



It requires double diligence and vigilance, to main- 
tain, under such circumstances, the spirit of re- 
ligion. I have prayed: I have talked: I have 
preached : but now I should perish, after all, if I 
did not feed on the bread which I have broken 
to others. 



A Minister must cultivate a tender spirit. 
If he does this so as to carry a savour and unction 
into his work, he will have far more weight than 
other men. This is the result of a devotional 
habit. To affect feeling is nauseous and soon de- 
tected : but to feel, is the readiest way to the hearts 
of others. 



The leading defect in Christian Ministers is want 
of a devotional habit. The Church of Rome 
made much of this habit. The contests accom- 
panying and following the Reformation, with 
something of an indiscriminate enmity against 
some of the good of that Church as w ell as the 
evil, combined to repress this spirit in the Pro- 
testant writings; whereas the mind of Christ 
seems, in fact, to be the grand end of Christianity 
in its operation upon man. 



252 



REMAINS. 



There is a manifest want of spiritual influence 
on the ministry of the present day. I feel it in 
my own case, and I see it in that of others. I am 
afraid that there is too much of a low, managing? 
contriving, maneuvering temper of mind among 
us. We are laying ourselves out, more than is 
expedient, to meet one man's taste, and another 
man's prejudices. The ministry is a grand and 
holy affair ; and it should find in us a simple habit 
of spirit, and a holy but humble indifference to all 
consequences. 



A Man of the world will bear to hear me read in 
the desk that awful passage: Wide is the gate 
and broad is the way that leadeth to destruction ; 
and many there be which go in thereat : Because 
strait is the gate, and narrow is the ivay tvhich 
leadeth unto life: and few there be that find it. 
Nay, he will approve it : — " The Minister is in 
the desk : he is reading the lesson of the day." 
But this very man — were I to go home with him, 
and tell him in his parlour that most of those 
whom he knows and loves are going on in that 
road to eternal destruction —this very man would 
brand the sentiment as harsh and uncharitable. 
Though uttered by Christ himself, it is a declara- 
tion as fanatical and uncandid, in the judgment of 
the world, as could be put together in language. 



ON THE CHRISTIAN MINISTRY. 253 



Many hearers cannot enter into the reasons of 
the Cross. They adopt what I think is Butlers 
grand defect on this subject. He speaks of the 
Cross as an appointment of God, and therefore 
to be submitted to : but God has said much in his 
word of the reasons of this appointment : that he 
might be just, and the justifier of him that be- 
lieveth. 



Several things are required to enable a Minister 
to attain a proper variety in his manner. He 
must be in continual practice : if I were to preach 
but once a month, I should lose the ability of 
preaching. He must know that his hearers are 
attached to him — that they will grant him indi- 
gencies and liberties. He must, in some measure, 
feel himself above his congregation. The pre- 
sence of a certain brother chills me ; because I 
feel that I can talk on no one subject in the pul- 
pit, with which he is not far better acquainted 
than I am. 



The first duty of a Minister, is, To call on his 
hearers to turn to the Lord. " We have much to 
speak to you upon. We have many duties to 
urge on you. We have much instruction to give 
you — but all will be thrown away, till you have 



254 



REMAINS. 



turned to the Lord:' Let me illustrate this by a 
familiar comparison. You see your child sinking 
in the water: his education lies near your heart: 
you are anxious to train him up so, that he may 
occupy well the post assigned to him in life. But, 
when you see him drowning, the first thoughts 
are — not how you may educate him, but how you 
may save him. Restore him to life, and then call 
that life into action. 



A disinterested regard to Truth should be, 
what it very seldom is, the most striking character 
in a Christian Minister. His purpose should be 
to make proselytes to truth, and not to anything 
which may be particular in his views of it. " Read 
my books" says one. " No !" says another, 
" read mine." And thus religion is taken up by 
piece-meal; and the mind is diverted from its 
true nature by false associations. If the teacher, 
whom this man has chosen for his oracle, disgrace 
religion by irreligious conduct, he stumbles. He 
stumbles, because he has not been fixed upon the 
sole and immoveable basis of the religion of the 
Bible. The mind well instructed in the Scrip- 
tures, can bear to see even its spiritual father 
make shipwreck of the faith and scandalize the 
Gospel; but will remain itself unmoved. The 
man is in possession of a treasure, which, if others 



ON THE CHRISTIAN MINISTRY. 255 



are foolish enough to abandon, yet they cannot 
detract anything from the value attached to it in 
his esteem. 



That a Minister may learn how to magnify his 
office, let him study the character, the spirit, and 
the history of St. Paul. His life and death were 
one magnifying of his office : mark his object — to 
win souls ! — to execute the will of God ! As the 
man rises in his own esteem, his office sinks ; but, 
as the office rises in his view, the man falls. He 
must be in constant hostility with himself, if he 
would magnify his office. He must hold himself 
in readiness to make sacrifices, when called to do 
so : he will not barter his office, like Balaam ; but 
will refuse to sell his service, like Micaiah. Like 
Ezra and Nehemiah, he will refuse to come down 
from the great work which he has to do. He may 
be calumniated ; but he will avoid hasty vindica- 
tions of his character: it does not appear that 
Elisha sent after Naaman to vindicate himself 
from the falsehoods of Gehazi : there appears to 
me much true dignity in this conduct : I fear I 
should have wanted patience to act thus. 



Some young Ministers have been greatly injured, 
by taking up their creed from a sort of second or 
third rate writers. Toplady, perhaps, has said 



256 



REMAINS. 



that he has found his preaching most successful, 
when it has turned on the grand doctrines of 
Calvinism. A young man admires Toplady, and 
adopts the same notion concerning his own mi- 
nistry. But let him turn to a master on the sub- 
ject. He will find such a man as Traill handling 
the Sovereignty of God, and such high points of 
doctrine, with a holy and heavenly sweetness ; 
which, while it renders it almost impossible not 
to receive his sentiments, leaves nothing on the 
mind but a religious savour. 



The grand aim of a Minister must be the exhi- 
bition of gospel truth. Statesmen may make 
the greatest blunders in the world, but that is not 
his affair. Like a King's Messenger, he must 
not stop to take care of a person fallen down : if 
he can render any kindness consistently with his 
duty, he will do it; if not, he will prefer his 
office. 



Our method of preaching is not that by which 
Christianity was propagated: yet the genius of 
Christianity is not changed. There was nothing 
in the primitive method set or formal. The pri- 
mitive Bishop stood up, and read the Gospel, or 
some other portion of Scripture, and pressed on 
the hearers, with great earnestness and affection. 



ON THE CHRISTIAN MINISTRY. 257 

a few plain and forcible truths evidently resulting 
from that portion of the Divine Word : we take a 
text, and make an oration. Edification was then 
the object of both speaker and hearers ; and, 
while this continues to be the object, no better 
method can be found. A parable, or history, or 
passage of Scripture, thus illustrated and enforced, 
is the best method of introducing truth to any 
people who are ignorant of it, and of setting it 
home with power on those who know it; and not 
formal, doctrinal, argumentative discourses. 
Truth and sympathy are the soul of an effica- 
cious Ministry. 

The Puritans were still farther removed from 
the primitive method of preaching : they would 
preach fifteen or sixteen Sermons on a text. A 
primitive Bishop would have been shocked with 
one of our sermons ; and, such is our taste, we 
should be shocked with his. They brought for- 
ward Scripture : we bring forward our statements. 
They directed all their observations to throw light 
on Scripture : we quote Scripture to throw light 
on our observations. More faith and more grace 
would make us better preachers, for out of the 
abundance of the heart the mouth speaketh. Chry- 
sostom's was the right method. Leigh ton's Lec- 
tures on Peter approach very near to this 
method. 



258 



REMAINS. 



In acting on matter, the art of man is mighty. 
The steam-engine is a mighty machine. But, 
in religion, the art of man is mere feebleness. 
The armour of Saul is armour in the camp of 
the Israelites, or in the camp of the Philistines — 
but we want the sling and the stone. I honour 
Metaphysicians, Logicians, Critics, and Historians 
— in their places. Look at facts. Men, who lay 
out their strength in statements, preach Churches 
empty. Few men have a wisdom so large, as to 
see that the way which they cannot attain may 
yet be the best way. I dare not tell most aca- 
demical, logical, frigid men how little I account 
of their opinion, concerning the true method of 
preaching to the popular ear. I hear them talk, 
as utterly incompetent judges. Such men would 
have said St. Paul was fit only for the Tabernacle. 
What he would have said they were fit for, I 
cannot tell. They are often great men — first-rate 
men — unequalled men — in their class and sphere : 
— but it is not their sphere to manage the world. 



If a Minister could work miracles, he would do 

little more than interest the curiosity of men 

" I want to eat, and I want to drink, and I do it. 
I get on with difficulty enough, as things are; and 
you talk about treating with heaven! I know 
nothing of the matter, and I want no such thing" 
—This is the language of man's heart. A future 



ON THE CHRISTIAN MINISTRY. 259 

thing! An indefinitely future thing! No! 
if a man could even authoritatively declare, that 
the Day of Judgment would be this day seven 
years, he would have little influence on mankind. 
Very few would be driven from the play-house — 
very few from the gaming table — very few from the 
brothel. — The din on 'Change would be very little 
diminished. I frequently look back on the early 
periods of my life, and imagine myself treating 
with such a character as I know I then was. I 
say to myself, " What now can I possibly say, 
that will affect and interest that young fellow of 
eighteen?" 



Some Christian Ministers fail in their effect on 
their hearers, by not entering as Philosophers 
into the state of human nature. They do not 
consider how low the patient is reduced— that 
he is to be treated more as a child— that he is to 
have milk administered to him, instead of strong 
meat. They set themselves to plant principles and 
prove points, when they should labour to interest 
the heart. But, after all, men will carry their 
natural character into their ministry. If a man 
has a dry, logical, scholastic turn of mind, we 
shall rarely find him an interesting preacher. 
One in a thousand may meet him, but not 
more. 



S 2 



2t>0 



REMAINS. 



The Christian will sometimes be brought to walk 
in a solitary path. God seems to cut away his 
props, that he may reduce him to Himself. His 
religion is to be felt as a personal, particular, ap- 
propriate possession. He is to feel, that, as there 
is but one Jehovah to bless, so there seems to him 
as though there were but one penitent in the uni- 
verse to be blessed by Him. Mary Magdalene at 
the Sepulchre was brought to this state. She 
might have said " I know not where Peter is: he 
is gone away — perhaps into the world — perhaps 
to weep over his fall. I know not where John is. 
What are the feelings and states of my brethren, 
I know not. I am left here alone. No one ac- 
companies and strengthens me. But, if none other 
will seek my Lord, yet will I seek Him!" There 
is a commanding energy in religious sympathy. 
A Minister, for example, while his preaching 
seems effective, and life and feeling shew them- 
selves around him, moves on with ease and plea- 
sure. But there is much of the man here. If 
God change the scene — if discouragements meet 
him — if he seem to be laid by, in any measure, as 
an instrument— if the love of his hearers to his 
person and ministry decay — this is a severe trial : 
yet most of us need this trial, that we may be re- 
duced simply to God, and may feel that the whole 
affair is between Him and ourselves. A dead fish 
will swim with the stream, whatever be its di- 
rection: but a living one will not only resist the 



ON THE CHRISTIAN MINISTRY. 261 

stream ; but, if it chuses, it can swim against it. 
The soul, that lives from God, will seek God, and 
follow God — more easily and pleasantly, indeed, 
if the stream flow toward the point whither God 
leads; but, still, it will follow God as its sole rest 
and centre, though the stream of men and opinions 
would hurry it away from Him. 



Gravity is, doubtless, obligatory on Ministers. 
The Apostle connects it with sincerity. Yet it 
must be natural —not affected. Some men give 
every thing in an oracular style : this looks like 
affectation, and will disgust others : they will at- 
tribute it to religion: but this is not a sanctified 
gravity. Other men are always disposed to levity: 
not that a man of original fancy is to be con- 
demned, for thinking in his own way : but the 
Minister must consider that he is a man of a con- 
secrated character : if it should not be difficult to 
himself to make transitions from levity to gravity, 
it will be difficult to carry others with him therein. 
Who has not felt, if God brings him into a trying 
situation, in which he sees that it is an awful thing 
to suffer or to die, that Gravity is then natural ? 
everything else is offensive ! That, too, is evil, 
which lets down the tone of a company : when a 
Minister loses his gravity, the company will take 
liberties with him. Yet, with a right principle, 
we must not play the fool. Gravity must be na- 



262 



REMAINS. 



tural and simple. There must be urbanity and 
tenderness in it. A man must not formalize on 
everything. He, who formalizes on every thing, 
is a fool ; and a grave fool is perhaps more injurious 
than a light fool. 



We are called to build a spiritual house. One 
workman is not to busy himself in telling another 
his duty. We are placed in different circum- 
stances, with various talents : and each is called 
to do what he can. Two men, equally accepted 
of God, may be exceedingly distinct in the ac- 
count which they will give of their employ. 



A regular Clergyman can do no more in the 
discharge of his duty, than our Church requires 
of him. He may fall far short of her require- 
ments ; but he cannot exceed, by the most de- 
voted life, the duties which she has prescribed. 
What man on earth is so pernicious a drone, as 
an idle Clergyman !— a man, engaged in the most 
serious profession in the world : who rises to eat, 
and drink, and lounge, and trifle; and goes to bed; 
and then rises again, to do the same ! Our office 
is the most laborious in the world. The mind 
must be always on the stretch, to acquire wisdom 
and grace, and to communicate them to all who 
come near. It is well, indeed, when a Clergyman 



ON THE CHRISTIAN MINISTRY. 263 

of genius and learning devotes himself to the pub- 
lication of classics and works of literature, if he 
cannot be prevailed on to turn his genius and 
learning to a more important end. Enter into this 
kind of society — what do you hear ? — " Have you 
seen the new edition of Sophocles?" — "No! is 

a new edition of Sophocles undertaken?" 

and this makes up the conversation, and these 
are the ends, of men who, by profession, should 
win souls! I received a most useful hint from 
Dr. Bacon, then Father of the University, when 
I was at College. I used frequently to visit him 
at his Living, near Oxford : he would say to me, 
" What are you doing? What are your studies?" — 
" I am reading so and so" — " You are quite wrong. 
When I was young I could turn any piece of 
Hebrew into Greek verse with ease. But, when 
I came into this parish, and had to teach ignorant 
people, I was wholly at a loss: I had no furni- 
ture. They thought me a great man, but that 
was their ignorance ; for I knew as little as they 
did, of what it was most important to them to 
know. Study chiefly what you can turn to good 
account in your future life." And yet this wise 
man had not just views of serious religion: he was 
one of those who are for reforming the parish — 
making the maids industrious, and the men sober 
and honest — but when I ventured to ask, " Sir, 
must not all this be effected by the infusion of a 
divine principle into the mind? — a union of the 



264 



REMAINS. 



soul with the great head of influence?" — " No 
more of that, no more of that, I pray!" 



A wise Minister stands between practical Atheism 
and Religious Enthusiasm. 



A Sermon, that has more head infused into it 
than heart, will not come home with efficacy to the 
hearers. " You must do so and so : such and 
such consequences will follow if you do not : such 
and such advantages will result from doing it :" — 
this is cold, dead, and spiritless, when it stands 
alone ; or even when it is most prominent. Let the 
preacher's head be stored with wisdom ; but above 
all, let his heart so feel his subject, that he may 
infuse life and interest into it, by speaking like one 
who actually possesses and feels what he says. 



Faith is the master-spring of a Minister. " Hell 
is before me, and thousands of souls shut up there 
in everlasting agonies — Jesus Christ stands forth 
to save men from rushing into this bottomless 
abyss — He sends me to proclaim his Ability and 
his Love : I want no fourth idea ! — every fourth 
idea is contemptible! — every fourth idea is a 
grand impertinence !" 



ON THE CHRISTIAN MINISTRY. 2G5 

The meanness of the earthen vessel, which con- 
veys to others the Gospel Treasure, takes nothing 
from the value of the treasure. A dying hand 
may sign a Deed of Gift of incalculable value. A 
shepherd's boy may point out the way to a phi- 
losopher. A beggar may be the bearer of an in- 
valuable present. 



A writer of Sermons has often no idea how 
many words he uses, to which the common 
people affix either no meaning, or a false one. 
He speaks, perhaps, of " relation to God :" but 
the people, who hear him, affix no other idea to 
the word, than that of father, or brother, or re- 
lative. The preacher must converse with the 
people, that he may acquire their words and 
phrases. 



It sometimes pleases God to disqualify Ministers 
for their work, before he takes them to their 
reward. Where he gives them wisdom to per- 
ceive this, and grace to acquiesce in the dispensa- 
tion — such a close of an honourable life, where 
the desire to be publicly useful survives the 
power, is a loud amen to all former labours. 



ON 



INFIDELITY AND POPERY, 



InFIDEL writings are ultimately productive of 
little or no danger to the Church of God. Nay, 
we are less at a loss in judging of the wisdom of 
Providence in permitting them, than we are in 
judging of many other of its designs. They may 
shake the simple, humble, spiritual mind ; but 
they are, in the end, the means of enlightening 
and settling it. 

There are but two sorts of people in the world. 
Some walk by the light of the Lord; and all 
others lie in the wicked one, in darkness and in the 
shadow of death. Where there is not an enlight- 
ened, simple, humble, spiritual mind, notions and 
opinions are of little consequence. The impudent 
and refuted misrepresentations of Infidels may 
turn a dark mind to some other notions and way 
of thinking ; but it is in the dark still. Till a man 
sees by the light of the Lord, every change of 
opinions is only putting a new dress on a dead 
carcase, and calling it alive. 



ON INFIDELITY AND POPERY. 267 

The grace of God must give simplicity. Wher- 
ever that is, it is a security against dangerous 
error: wherever it is not, erroneous opinions may 
perhaps less predispose the mind against the 
truth of God in its lively power on the soul, than 
true notions destitute of all life and influence do. 

Yet the writings of Infidels must be read with 
caution and fear. There are cold, intellectual, 
speculative, malignant foes to Christianity. I 
dare not tamper with such, when I am in my 
right mind. I have received serious injury, for a 
time, even when my duty has called me to read 
what they have to say. The daring impiety of 
Belsham's answer to Wilberforce ruffled the calm 
of my spirit. I read it over while at Bath, in the 
Autumn of 1798. I waked in pain, about 2 
o'clock in the morning. I tried to chear myself 
by an exercise of faith on Jesus Christ. I lifted 
up my heart to Him, as sympathizing with me, 
and engaged to support me. Many times have I 
thus obtained quiet and repose : but now I could 
lay no hold on him : I had given the enemy an 
advantage over me : my habit had imbibed poison : 
my nerves trembled: my strength was gone! — 
" Jesus Christ sympathize with you, and relieve 
you ! It is all enthusiasm ! It is idolatry ! Jesus 
Christ has preached his sermons, and done his 
duty, and is gone to heaven ! And there he is, as 
other good men are ! Address your prayers to the 
Supreme Being I obtain relief in such cases, 



268 



REMAINS. 



by dismissing from my thoughts all that enemies 
or friends can say. I will have nothing to do 
with Belsham or with Wilberforce. I come to 
Christ Himself. I hear what He says. I turn 
over the Gospels. I read his conversations. I 
dwell especially on his farewell discourses with 
his disciples, in St. John's Gospel. If there be 
meaning in words, and if Christ were not a de- 
ceiver or deceived, the reality of the Christian's 
life, in Him and from Him by faith, is written 
there as with a sun-beam. 

This temptation besets me to this day, and I 
know not that I have any other which is so par- 
ticular in its attacks upon me. I am sometimes 
restless in bed ; and, when I find myself so, I ge- 
nerally think that the parenthesis cannot be so 
well employed as in prayer. While my mind is 
thus ascending to Christ and communing with 
' him, it often comes across me — " What a fool art 
thou to imagine these mental effusions can be 
known to any other Being ! what a senseless en- 
thusiast to imagine that the man who was nailed 
to a cross can have any knowledge of these 
secrets of thy soul !" On one of these occasions 
it struck me with great and commanding evidence 
— " Why might not St. John, in the Isle of Pat- 
mos — imprisoned perhaps in a cave — why might 
not he have said so ? Why might not he have 
doubted whether Christ the crucified could have 
knowledge of his feelings, when he was in the 



% 

ON INFIDELITY AND POPERY. 269 

Spirit on the Lord's day ? He had no doubt com- 
munion with Christ in the Spirit, before he had 
those palpable evidences of his presence which 
immediately followed." 



In the permission of certain bold infidel characters 
and writings, we may discern plain evidences of 
that awful system of judicial government with 
which God has been pleased to rule the world. 
Where there is a moral indisposition, where men 
are inclined to be deceived, where they are wait- 
ing as it were for a leader— there he sends such 
men or such writings, as harden them in their 
impiety : while a teachable and humble mind will 
discern the true character of such men or writ- 
ings, and escape the danger. 

I can conceive a character much more perni- 
cious in its influence, than the daring and impu- 
dent Infidel. A man — in the estimation of all the 
world modest, amiable, benevolent — who should, 
with deep concern, lament the obligation under 
which he feels himself to depart from the religion 
of Europe, the religion of his Country, the religion 
of his Family; and should profess his unfeigned 
desire to find this religion true, but that he cannot 
possibly bring his mind to believe it, and that for 
such and such reasons : when he should thus in- 
troduce all the strongest points that can be urged 
on the subject. 



270 



REMAINS. 



But God governs the world. It is not in his 
design to permit such men to arise. The Infidel 
has always had something about him, which has 
ascertained his obliquity to the eye, that has not 
been dimmed by the moral indisposition of the 
heart. 



The low and scurrilous writers against Revelation 
carry their own condemnation with them. They 
are like an ill-looking fellow, who comes into a 
Court of Justice to give evidence, but carries the 
aspect, on the first glance, of a Town-Bully, ready 
to swear whatever shall be suggested to him. 



Burke has painted the spirit of Democracy to 
the life. I have fallen in with some Democrats, 
who knew nothing of me. They have been sub- 
jects of great curiosity, when I could forget the 
horrid display of Sin that was before me. I saw 
a malignant eye— a ferocity— an intensity of mind 
on their point. Viewed in its temper and ten- 
dencies, Jacobinism is Devilism — Belialism. It 
takes the yoke of God and man — puts it on the 
ground — and stamps on it. Every man is called 
out into exertion against it. It is an inveterate, 
malignant, blaspheming, atheistical, fierce spirit. 
It seems a toss-up with these men, whether Satan 
himself shall govern the world. Before such 



ON INFIDELITY AND POPERY. 271 

men, I say not a word. Our Master has com- 
manded us not to cast pearls before swine. I am 
vastly delighted with character — true and original 
character : but this is an awful and affecting dis- 
play of it. 



The Church has endured a pagan and a papal 
persecution. There remains for her an infidel 
persecution — general, bitter, purifying, cement- 
ing. 



It is, perhaps, impossible, in the very nature of 
things, that such another scheme as Popery could 
be invented. It is, in truth, the Mystery of Ini- 
quity : that it should be able to work itself into 
the simple, grand, sublime, holy institution of 
Christianity; and so to interweave its abomina- 
tions with the truth, as to occupy the strongest 
passions of the soul, and to controul the strongest 
understandings ! While Pascal can speak of 
Popery as he does, its influence over the mass of 
the people can excite no surprize. Those two 
master principles — That we must believe as the 
Church ordains, and That there is no salvation 
out of this Church^-oppose, in the ignorance and 
fear which they beget, an almost insuperable 
barrier against the truth. 



272 



REMAINS. 



I have not such expectations of a Millenium aa 
many entertain : yet I believe that the figures and 
expressions of prophecy have never received their 
accomplishment. They are too grand and ample, 
to have been fulfilled by any state, which the 
Church has hitherto seen. Christianity has yet 
had no face suitable to its dignity. It has sa- 
voured hitherto too much of man — of his institu- 
tions — of his prejudices — of his follies— of his sin. 
It must be drawn out— depicted — exhibited — 
demonstrated to the world. Its chief enemies 
have been the men by whom, under the profes- 
sion of Hail, Master! it has been distorted, 
abused, and vilified. 

Popery was the master-piece of Satan. I be- 
lieve him utterly incapable of such another con- 
trivance. It was a systematic and infallible plan, 
for forming manacles and mufflers for the human 
mind. It was a well-laid design to render Chris- 
tianity contemptible, by the abuse of its principles 
and its institutions. It was formed to overwhelm 
— to enchant — to sit as the great Whore, making 
the Earth drunk with her fornications. 

The Infidel Conspiracy approaches nearest to 
Popery. But Infidelity is a suicide. It dies by 
its own malignity. It is known and read of all 
men. No man was ever injured essentially by it, 
who was fortified with a small portion of the 
genuine spirit of Christianity— its contrition and 
its docility. Nor is it one in its efforts : its end 



ON INFIDELITY AND POPERY. 273 

is one; but its means are disjointed, various, 
and often clashing. Popery debases and alloys 
Christianity : but Infidelity is a furnace, wherein 
it is purified and refined. The injuries done to it 
by Popery, will be repaired by the very attacks 
of Infidelity. 

In the mean time, Christianity wears an en- 
chanting form to all, who can penetrate through 
the mists thrown round it by its false friends and 
its avowed foes. The exiled French Priest raises 
the pity and indignation of all Christians, while he 
describes the infernal plots of the Infidel Con- 
spirators against Christianity, and shews them in 
successful operation against his Church*. We 
seem, for a while, to forget her errors ; and we 
view her for the moment, only so far as she pos- 
sesses Christianity in common with ourselves. 
But, when he charges the origin of this Infidel 
Conspiracy on the principles asserted by the 
Waldenses or the Church of Geneva, the enchant- 
ment dissolves. We see that he is under the in- 
fluence of a sophism ; by which, having imposed 
upon himself, he would impose upon others. 
With him, Christianity and his Church mean one 
and the same thing. A separation from his 
Church, is a separation from Christianity; and 
proceeds on principles which lead necessarily, if 
pursued to their issues, to every abomination of 
Infidelity. But let him know that the Church of 

* Alluding to Barruel's Memoirs of Jacobinism. J. ]?. 
t T 



274 



REMAINS. 



Geneva protested against the false friend of Chris- 
tianity ; and that, if the avowed enemy of Chris- 
tianity had then elevated himself, she would have 
protested with equal zeal against him. Let him 
know, that, if his Church had listened to the voice 
of the Reformer, the enemy of Christianity would 
have wanted ground for footing to his attacks. 
The Papist falsely charges the Reformer, as the 
father of Infidelity: the Infidel maliciously con- 
founds Popery and Christianity: but the true 
Christian is as far from the licentiousness of the 
Infidel, as he is from the corruption of the Papist. 

I am not inclined to view things in a gloomy 
aspect. Christianity must undergo a renovation. 
If God has sent his Son, and has declared that 
he will exalt him on his throne — the earth and all 
that it inherit are contemptible in the view of such 
a plan! If this be God's design— proceed it does, 
and proceed it will. Christianity is such a holy 
and spiritual affair, that perhaps all human institu- 
tions are to be destroyed to make way for it. 
Men may fashion things as they will ; but, if there 
is no effusion of the Spirit of God on their institu- 
tions, they will remain barren and lifeless. Many 
Christians appear to have forgotten this. 



OV A 



CHRISTIAN'S DUTY 

IW THESE 

EVENTFUL TIMES. 



OlJRS is a period of no common kind. The 
path of duty to a Christian is now unusually diffi- 
cult. It seems to me, however, to be compre- 
hended in two words — Be quiet and useful. 
The precept is short ; but the application of it 
requires much grace and wisdom. Take not a 
single step out of a quiet obscurity, to which you 
are not compelled by a sense of utility. 

Two parties have divided the world. 

The jacobins are desperadoes: the earth's 
torment and plague. Bishop Horsley said well of 
them, lately from the pulpit — " These are they, 
who have poisoned Watts's Hymns for Children. 
These are they, who are making efforts to conta- 
minate every means of access to the public mind. 
And what is their aim? — What are their preten- 
sions? — That they will have neither Lord nor King 
over them. But, verily, one is their King: whose 



276 



REMAINS. 



name, in the Hebrew tongue, is Abaddon ; but, 
in the Greek tongue, he is called Apollyon; and, 
in plain English — 6 The Devil' My soul come 
not thou near the tents of these wicked men!" 

" But the anti jacobins?" — Their project, as a 
body, leaves God out of the question. Their 
proposal is unholy. I cannot be insensible to the 
Security, Order, and Liberty, with which these 
kingdoms are favoured above all other nations ; 
but I cannot go forth with these men, as one of 
their party. I cannot throw up my hat, and shout 
" Huzza!" Woe to the world, if even they 
prevail! 

The world is a lying, empty pageant; and these 
men are ensnared with the show. My part in it, 
as a Christian, is to act with simplicity as the 
servant of God. What does God bid me do ? 
What, in this minute of time, which will be gone 
and carry me with it into Eternity — what is my 
path of duty? While enemies blaspheme, and 
friends are beguiled, let me stand on my watch- 
toiver, with the Prophet, listening what the Lord 
God shall say to me. In any scheme of man I dare 
not be drunken. We, who are of the day, must 
be sober. Churchman or Dissenter, if I am a 
true Christian, I shall talk thus to my connections. 
The sentiment of the multitude is ensnaring ; but 
the multitude is generally wrong. I must beware 
of the contagion. Not that I am to push myself 
into consequence. The matter is between me and 



ON THE DUTY OF THE TIMES. 277 

my God— Not one step out of a holy quiet and 
obscurity, but in order to utility. 

Yet we must be active and bold, whenever 
duty calls us to be so. My own conduct, with 
respect to the religious world, is too much formed 
on my feelings. I see it in what I deem a lament- 
able state ; but I seem to say " Well ! go on talk- 
ing, and mistaking, and making a noise: only 
make not a noise here:" and then I retire into my 
closet, and shrink within myself. But, had I 
more Faith, and Simplicity, and Love, and Self- 
Denial, I might do all I do in my present sphere, 
but I should throw myself in the midst of them, 
and intreat and argue and remonstrate. 

But then such a man must give himself up as a 
Sacrifice. He would be misrepresented and ca- 
lumniated from many quarters. But he would 
make up his account for such treatment. How 
would St. Paul have acted in such a state of the 
Church ? Would he not have displayed that warm 
spirit, which made him say O foolish Galatians f 
who hath bewitched you? and that holy self-denial, 
which dictated I will very gladly spend and be spent 
for you, though the more exceedingly I love you the 
less I be loved? 

It is not to be calculated, how much a single 
man may effect, who throws his whole powers 
into a thing. Who, for instance, can estimate the 
influence of Voltaire? He shed an influence of 
a peculiar sort over Europe. His powers were 



278 



REMAINS. 



those of a gay buffoon — far different from those of 
Hume, and others of his class — but he threw 
himself wholly into them. It is true these men 
meet the wickedness or the imbecility of the hu- 
man mind ; but there are many right-hearted peo- 
ple, who hang a long time on the side of pure, 
silent, simple religion. Let a man, who sees things 
as I do, throw himself out with all his powers, to 
rescue and guide such persons. 



ON 

FORTIFYING YOUTH 



AGAINST 

INFIDEL PRINCIPLES. 



\ NEVER gathered from Infidel Writers, when 
an avowed Infidel myself, any solid difficulties, 
which were not brought to my mind by a very 
young child of my own. " Why was sin per- 
mitted ?" — " What an insignificant world is this 
to be redeemed by the Incarnation and Death of 
the Son of God !" — " Who can believe that so few 
will be saved ?" — Objections of this kind, in the 
mind of reasoning young persons, prove to me 
that they are the growth of fallen nature. 

The nurse of Infidelity is Sensuality. Youth 
are sensual. The Bible stands in their way. It 
prohibits the indulgence of the lust of the flesh, the 
lust of the eye, and the pride of life. But the 
young mind loves these things ; and therefore, it 
hates the Bible which prohibits them. It is pre- 
pared to say, " If any man will bring me argu- 
ments against the Bible, I will thank him : if not, 
I will invent them." 



280 



REMAINS. 



As to infidel arguments, there is no weight in 
them. They are jejune and refuted. Infidels are 
not themselves convinced by them. 

In combating this evil in Youth, we must re- 
collect the proverb, that " a man may bring his 
horse to the water, but cannot make him drink." 
The minds of the young are pre-occupied. They 
will not listen. Yet a crisis may come. They will 
stop, and bethink themselves. 

One promising method with them, is, to ap- 
peal to facts. What sort of men are Infidels ? 
They are loose — fierce — overbearing men. There 
is nothing in them like sober and serious enquiry. 
They are the wildest fanatics on earth. Nor have 
they agreed among themselves on any scheme of 
truth and felicity. Contrast with the character of 
Infidels that of real Christians. 

It is advantageous to dwell, with Youth, on 

THE NEED AND NECESSITIES OF MAN. " Every 

pang and grief tells a man that he needs a helper: 
but Infidelity provides none. And what can its 
schemes do for you in death ?" 

Impress them with a sense ot their igno- 
rance. *I silence myself, many times a day, by a 
sense of my own ignorance. 

Appeal to their consciences. " Why is it 
that you listen to Infidelity ? Is not Infidelity a 
low, carnal, wicked game? Is it not the very 
picture of the Prodigal — Father, give me the por- 
tion of goods that falleth to me ? — " The question 



ON INFIDELILY IN YOUTH. 281 

why Infidelity is received, exposes it, and shews 
it to the light. Why — why will a man be an 
Infidel? Your children may urge difficulties: 
but tell them that inexplicable difficulties sur- 
round you : you are compelled to believe, in 
ninety-nine cases out of a hundred, whether you 
will or no ; and shall you not be a believer in the 
hundredth instance from choice ? 

Draw out a map of the road of infidelity. 
It will lead them to such stages, at length, as 
they never could suspect. Is thy servant a dog, 
that he should do this thing ? 

The spirit and tone of your house will 
have great influence on your children. If it is 
what it ought to be, it will often fasten conviction 
on their minds, however wicked they may become. 
I have felt the truth of this in my own case : I said 
" My father is right, and I am wrong! Oh, let me 
die the death of the righteous, and let my last end be 
like his T The bye-conversations in a family are, 
in this view, of unspeakable importance. 

On the whole, arguments addressed to the 
heart press more forcibly than those addressed to 
the head. When I was a child, and a very wicked 
one too, one of Dr. AVatts s Hymns sent me to 
weep in a corner. The lives in Janeway's Token 
had the same effect. I felt the influence of faith 
in suffering Christians. The character of young 
Samuel came home to me, when nothing else had 
any hold on pay mind. 



• N THE 



MANAGEMENT OF CHILDREN. 



I J RE AT wisdom is requisite in correcting the 
evils of children. A child is bashful, perhaps : but, 
in stimulating this child, we are too apt to forget 
future consequences. " Hold up your head* 
Don't be vulgar." At length they hold up their 
heads ; and acquire such airs, that, too late, we 
discover our error. We forgot that we were giv- 
ing gold, to purchase dross. We forgot that we 
were sacrificing modesty and humility, to make 
them young actors and old tyrants*. 



* The reader cannot but admire the sentiments, which Bishop Hurd 
has, on this subject, put into the mouth of Mr. Locke, one of his supposed 
interlocutors in the Dialogue on Foreign Travel. 

u Bashfulness is not so much the effect of an ill education, as the proper 
gift and provision of wise nature. Every stage of life has its own set of 
manners, that is suited to it, and best becomes it. Each is beautiful in its 
season j and you might as well quarrel with the child's rattle, and advance 
him directly to the boy's top and span-farthing, as expect from diffident 
youth the manly confidence of riper age. 

" Lamentable in the mean time, I am sensible, is the condition of my 
good lady : who, especially if she be a mighty well-bred one, is perfectly 
shocked at the boy's awkwardness; and calls out on the taylor, the danc- 
ing-master, the player, the travelled tutor, any body and every body, to 
relieve her from the pain of so disgraceful an object. 

" She should, however, be told, if a proper season and words soft 
enough could be found to convey the information, that the odioos thing, 
which disturbs her so much, is one of nature s signatures impressed on that 
age : that bashfulness is but the passage from one season of life to ano- 




ON THE MANAGEMENT OF CHILDREN. 283 



Christians are imbibing so much of the cast and 
temper of the age, that they seem to be anxiously 
tutoring their children, and preparing them by all 
manner of means, not for a better world, but for the 
present. Yet in nothing should the simplicity of 
faith be more unreservedly exercised, than with 
regard to children. Their appointments and sta- 
tions, yea even their present and eternal happiness 
or misery, so far as they are influenced by their 
states and conditions in life, may be decided by 
the most minute and trivial events, all of which 
are in God's hand, and not in ours. An unbe- 
lieving spirit pervades, in this respect, too inti- 
mately the Christian World. 



When I meet children to instruct them, I do not 
suffer one grown person to be present. The 
Moravians pursue a different method. Some of 
their elder brethren even sit among the children, 
to sanction and encourage the work. This is well, 
provided children are to be addressed in the usual 
manner. But that will effect little good. No- 
thing is easier than to talk to children ; but, to 
talk to them as they ought to be talked to, is the 
very last effort of ability. A man must have a 
vigorous imagination. He must have extensive 

ther; and that as the body is then the least graceful, when the limbs are 
making their last efforts and hastening to their just proportion, so the 
manners are least easy and disengaged, when the mind, conscious and impa- 
tient of its imperfections, is stretching all its faculties to their full growth." 

See Bishop Hurd's Moral and Political Dialogues, ed. vi th « 
Lond. 1788. vol. 3d. pp. 99, 100, 101. J. P. 



284 



REMAINS. 



knowledge, to call in illustrations from the four 
corners of the earth : for he will make little 
progress, but by illustration. It requires great 
genius, to throw the mind into the habit of chil- 
dren's minds. I aim at this, but I find it the 
utmost effort of ability. No sermon ever put my 
mind half so much on the stretch. The effort is 
such, that, were one person present, who was 
capable of weighing the propriety of what I said, 
it would be impossible for me to proceed : the 
mind must, in such a case, be perfectly at its 
ease : it must not have to exert itself under cramps 
and fetters. I am surprized at nothing which 
Dr. Watts did, but his Hymns for Children. 
Other men could have written as well as he, in 
his other works ; but how he wrote these hymns, 
I know not. Stories fix children's attention. 
The Moment I begin to talk in anything like an 
abstract manner, the attention subsides. The 
simplest manner in the world will not make way 
to children's minds for abstract truths. With 
stories I find I could rivet their attention for 
two or three hours, 



Children are very early capable of impression. 
I imprinted on my daughter the idea of Faith, 
at a very early age. She was playing one day with 
a few beads, which seemed to delight her won- 
derfully. Her whole soul was absorbed in her 
beads. I said — " My dear, you have some pretty 



ON THE MANAGEMENT OF CHILDREN. 285 



beads there."—" Yes, Papa!" — "And you seem to 
be vastly pleased with them"— 4 4 Yes, Papa!" "Well 
now, throw 'em behind the fire." The tears started 
into her eyes. She looked earnestly at me, as 
though she ought to have a reason for such a 
cruel sacrifice. " Well, my dear, do as you 
please; but you know I never told you to do any- 
thing, which I did not think would be good for 
you." She looked at me a few moments longer, 
and then summoning up all her fortitude — her 
breast heaving with the effort — she dashed them 
into the fire.—" Well," said 1 : 44 there let them lie : 
you shall hear more about them another time ; but 
say no more about them now." Some days after, 
I bought her a box full of larger beads, and toys 
of the same kind. When I returned home, I 
opened the treasure and set it before her: she 
burst into tears with extacy. Those, my child," 
said I, are yours; because you believed me, when 
I told you it would be better for you to throw those 
two or three paltry beads behind the fire. Now 
that lias brought you this treasure. But now, my 
dear, remember, as long as you live, what Faith 
is. I did all this to teach you the meaning of 
Faith. You threw your beads away when I bid 
you, because you had faith in me that I never 
advised you but for your good* Put the same con- 
fidence in God. Believe every thing that he says 
in his word. Whether you understand it or not, 
have faith in him that he means your good." 



ON 

FAMILY WORSHIP. 



Family religion is of unspeakable importance. 
Its effect will greatly depend on the sincerity of 
the head of the family, and on his mode of con- 
ducting the worship of his household. If his 
children and servants do not see his prayers ex- 
emplified in his tempers and manners, they will 
be disgusted with religion. Tediousness will 
weary them. Fine language will shoot above 
them. Formality of connection or composition 
in prayer they will not comprehend. Gloominess 
or austerity of devotion will make them dread 
religion as a hard service. Let them be met with 
smiles. Let them be met as friends. Let them 
be met as for the most delightful service in which 
they can be engaged. Let them find it short, 
savoury, simple, plain, tender, heavenly. Worship, 
thus conducted, may be used as an engine of vast 
power in a family. It diffuses a sympathy through 
the members. It calls off the mind from the 
deadening effe t of worldly affairs. It arrests 



ON FAMILY WORSHIP. 287 

every member, with a morning and evening sermon, 
in the midst of all the hurries and cares of life. 
It says " There is a God!"—" There is a spiritual 
world!" — " There is a life to come!" It fixes the 
idea of responsibility in the mind. It furnishes a 
tender and judicious father or master with an op- 
portunity of gently glancing at faults, where a 
direct admonition might be inexpedient. It en- 
ables him to relieve the weight with which subor- 
dination or service often sits on the minds of 
inferiors. 

In my family-worship I am not the reader, but 
employ one of my children. I make no formal 
comment on the Scripture : but, when any strik- 
ing event or sentiment arises, I say " Mark that!" 
— " See how God judges of that thing!" Some- 
times I ask what they think of the matter, and 
how such a thing strikes them. I generally re- 
ceive very strange, and sometimes ridiculous 
answers ; but I am pleased with them : attention 
is all alive, while I am explaining wherein they err, 
and what is the truth. In this manner I endea- 
vour to impress the spirit and scope of the passage 
on the family. 

I particularly aim at the eradication of a false 
principle, wonderfully interwoven with the minds 
of children and servants — they take their standard 
from the neighbourhood and their acquaintance, 
and by this they judge of every thing. I endea- 
vour to raise them to a persuasion, that God's will 



288 



REMAINS. 



in Scripture is the standard; and that this standard 
is perpetually in opposition to that corrupt one 
around and before them. 

The younger children of the family will soon 
have discernment enough to perceive that the 
Bible has a holiness about it, that runs directly 
contrary to the stream of opinion. And then, 
because this character is so evident, and so inse- 
parable from the Scripture, the heart will distaste 
and reject it. Yet the standard must be preserved. 
If a man should lower it, they would soon detect 
him ; and he must, after all, raise them up to the 
right standard again. Much may be effected by 
manner, as to impressing truth ; but, still, truth 
will remain irksome, till God touch the heart. 

I read the Scriptures to my family in some re- 
gular order : and am pleased to have thus a lesson 
found for me. I look on the chapter of the day 
as a lesson sent for that day ; and so I regard it as 
coming from God for the use of that day, and not 
of my own seeking. 

I find it easy to keep up the attention of a con- 
gregation, in comparison of that of my family. 
I have found the attention best gained, by bring- 
ing the Truths of Scripture into comparison with 
the Facts which are before our eyes. It puts 
more stimuli into family-expositions. I never found 
a fact lost, or the current news of the day fail of 
arresting the attention. " How does the Bible 
account for that fact? — That man murdered his 



ON FAMILY WORSHIP. 



289 



Father — This or that thing happened in our house 
to-day — What does the Scripture say of such 
things?" 

It is difficult to fix and quiet your family. The 
servants are eager to be gone, to do something in 
hand. There has been some disagreement, per- 
haps, between them and their mistress. We must 
seize opportunities. We must not drive hard at 
such times as these. Regularity, however, must 
be enforced. If a certain hour is not fixed and 
adhered to, the family will inevitably be found in 
confusion. 

Religion should be prudently brought before a 
family. The old Dissenters wearied their families. 
Jacob reasoned well with Esau, about the tender- 
ness of his children and his flocks and herds. 
Something gentle, quiet, moderate should be our 
aim. There should be no scolding: it should be 
mild and pleasant. 

I avoid absolute uniformity : the mind revolts 
at it: though I would shun eccentricity, for that 
is still worse. At one time I would say something 
on what is read : but, at another time, nothing. 
I make it as natural as possible : " I am a re- 
ligious man : you are my children and my servants : 
it is natural that we should do so and so." 

Nothing of superstition should attach to family- 
duty. It is not absolutely and in all cases indis- 
pensable. If unavoidably interrupted, we omit it : 
it is well. If I were peremptorily ordered, as the 
t U 



290 



REMAINS. 



Jews were, to bring a lamb, I must be absolute. 
But this service is my liberty, not my task. I do 
not, however, mean in any degree to relax the 
proper obligation. 

Children and servants should see us acting on 
the Psalmist's declaration, / will speak of thy 
testimonies before Kings. If a great man happens 
to be present, let them see that I deem him no- 
thing before the Word of God! 



ON THE 



INFLUENCE 

OF TIIK 

PARENTAL CHARACTER. 



TThE influence of the parental character on 
children is not to be calculated. Every thing 
around has an influence on us. Indeed the influ- 
ence of things is so great, that, by familiarity with 
them, they insensibly urge us on principles and 
feelings which we before abhorred. I knew a man 
who took in a democratical paper, only to laugh 
at it. But, at length, he had read the same things 
again and again, so often, that he began to think 
there must be some truth in them ; and that men 
and measures were really such as they were so 
often said to be. A drop of water seems to have 
no influence on the stone ; but it will, in the end, 
wear its way through. If there be, therefore, 
such a mighty influence in every thing around us, 
the Parental Influence must be great indeed. 

Consistency is the great character, in good 
parents, which impresses children. They may 
witness much temper ; but if they see their Father 

U 2 



292 



REMAINS. 



" keep the even tenor of his way," his imperfec- 
tions will be understood and allowed for as reason 
opens. The child will see and reflect on his parent's 
intention: and this will have great influence on his 
mind. This influence may, indeed, be afterwards 
counteracted: but that only proves that contrary 
currents may arise, and carry the child another 
way. Old Adam mav be too strong for vouns: 
Melancthon. 

The implantation of principles is of uuspeakable 
importance, especially when culled from time to 
time out of the Bible. The child feels his parent's 
authority supported by the Bible, and the autho- 
rity of the Bible supported by his parent "s weight 
and influence. Here are data — fixed data. A 
man can very seldom get rid of these principles. 
They stand in his way. He wishes to forget them, 
perhaps ; but it is impossible. 

Where Parental Influence does not convert, 
it hampers. It hangs on the wheels of evil. I 
had a pious Mother, who dropped things in my 
way. I could never rid myself of them. I was 
a professed Infidel: but then I liked to be an In- 
fidel in company, rather than when alone. I was 
wretched when by myself. These principles, and 
maxims, and data spoiled my jollity. With my 
companions I could sometimes stifle them: like 
embers we kept one other warm. Besides, I was 
here a sort of Hero. I had beguiled several of 
my associates into my own opinions, and I had to 



INFLUENCE OF PARENTAL CHARACTER. 293 



maintain a character before them. But I could 
not divest myself of my better principles. I went 
with one of my companions to see " The Minor." 
He could laugh heartily at Mother Cole — I could 
not. He saw in her the picture of all who talked 
about religion — I knew better. The ridicule on 
regeneration was high sport to him — to me, it was 
none: it could not move my features. He knew 
no difference between regeneration and transub- 
stantiation— 1 did. I knew there was such a thing. 
I was afraid and ashamed to laugh at it. Parental 
influence thus cleaves to a man: it harasses him — 
it throws itself continually in his way. 

I find in myself another evidence of the great- 
ness of Parental Influence. I detect myself to 
this day, in laying down maxims in my family, 
which I took up at three or four years of age, 
before I could possibly know the reason of the 
thing. 

It is of incalculable importance to obtain a 
hold on the conscience. Children have a con- 
science; and it is not seared, though it is evil. 
Bringing the eternal world into their view — 
planning and acting with that world before us — 
this gains, at length, such a hold on them, that, 
with all the Infidel poison which they may after- 
ward imbibe, there are few children who, at night 
—in their chamber— in the dark — in a storm of 
thunder—will not feel. ^They cannot cheat like 
other men. They recollect that eternity, which 



294 



REMAINS. 



stands in their way. It rises up before them, like 
the ghost of Banquo to Macbeth. It goads them : 
it thunders in their ears. After all, they are 
obliged to compound the matter with conscience, 
if they cannot be prevailed on to return to God 
without delay. — " I must be religious, one time 
or other. That is clear. I cannot get rid of this 
thing. Well ! I will begin at such a time. I will 
finish such a scheme, and then P 

The opinions — the spirit — the conversation — 
the manners of the parent, influence the child. 
Whatever sort of man he is, such, in a great de- 
gree, will be the child; unless constitution or 
accident give him another turn. If the parent 
is a fantastic man— if he is a genealogist, knows 
nothing but who married such an one and who 
married such an one — if he is a sensualist, a low 
wretch — his children will usually catch these 
tastes. If he is a literary man— his very girls will 
talk learnedly. If he is a griping, hard, miserly 
man— such will be his children. This I speak of 
as generally the case. It may happen, that the 
parent's disposition may have no ground to work 
on in that of the child. It may happen, that the 
child may be driven into disgust: the Miser, for 
instance, often implants disgust, and his son be- 
comes a Spendthrift. 

After all, in some cases, perhaps, every thing 
seems to have been done and exhibited by the 
pious parent in vain. Yet he casts his bread upon 



INFLUENCE OF PARENTAL CHARACTER. 295 

the waters. And, perhaps, after he has been in 
his grave twenty years, his son remembers what 
his father told him. 

Besides, Parental Influence must be great, 
because God has said that it shall be so. The 
parent is not to stand reasoning and calculating. 
God lias said that his character shall have 
influence. 

And this appointment of Providence, becomes 
often the punishment of a wicked man. Such a 
man is a complete selfist. I am weary of hear- 
ing such men talk about their " family" — and their 
" family 1 ' — they " must provide for their family." 
Their family has no place in their real regard. 
They push for themselves. But God says—" No! 
You think your children shall be so and so. But 
they shall be rods for your own backs. They 
shall be your curse. They shall rise up against 
you." The most common of all human complaints 
is — Parents groaning under the vices of their 
children! This is all the effect of Parental In- 
fluence. 

In the exercise of this influence there are two 
leading dangers to be avoided. 

Excess of severity is one danger. My Mother, 
on the contrary, would talk to me, and weep as 
she talked. I flung out of the house with an oath 
— but wept too when I got into the street. Sym- 
pathy is the powerful engine of a mother. I was 
desperate : I would go on board a privateer. But 



296 



REMAINS. 



there are soft moments to such desperadoes. God 
does not, at once, abandon them to themselves. 
There are times when the man says — " I should 
be glad to return : but I should not like to meet 
that face!" if he has been treated with severity. 

Yet excess of laxity is another danger. The 
case of Eli affords a serious warning on this sub- 
ject. Instead of his mild expostulation on the 
flagrant wickedness of his sons — Nay, my sons, it 
is no good report that I hear — he ought to have 
exercised his authority as a parent and magistrate 
in punishing and restraining their crimes. 



) 



REMARKS ON AUTHORS. 



w HEN I look at the mind of Lord Bacon — 
it seems vast, original, penetrating, analogical, 
beyond all competition. When I look at his 
character — it is wavering, shuffling, mean. In the 
closing scene, and in that only, he appears in true 
dignity, as a man of profound contrition. 



Baxter surpasses, perhaps, all others, in the 
grand, impressive, and persuasive style. But he 
is not to be named with Owen as to furnishing the 
student's mind. He is, however, multifarious, 
complex, practical. 



Clarke has, above all other men, the faculty of 
lowering the life and spiritual sense of Scripture 
to such perfection, as to leave it like dry bones, 
divested of every particle of marrow or oil. South 
is nearer the truth. He tells more of it : but he 



298 



REMAINS. 



tells it with the tongue of a viper, for he was most 
bitterly set against the Puritans. But there is a 
spirit and life about him. He must and will be 
heard. And, now and then, he darts on us 
with an unexpected and imcomparable stroke. 



The modern German writers, and the whole 
school formed after them, systematically and in- 
tentionally confound vice and virtue, and argue 
for the passions against the morals and institutions 
of society. There never was a more dangerous 
book written, than one that Mrs. Wolstoncroft 
left imperfect, but which Godwin published after 
her death. Her " Wrongs of Women" is an art- 
ful apology for adultery : she labours to interest 
the feelings in favour of an adul tress, by making 
her crime the consequence of the barbarous con- 
duct of a despicable husband, while she is painted 
all softness and sensibility. Nothing like this was 
ever attempted before the modern school. 



<£ Some men," said Dr. Patten to me, " are always 
crying Fire ! Fire !" To be sure — where there is 
danger, there ought to be affectionate earnestness. 
Who would remonstrate, coldly and with indif- 
ference, with a man about to precipitate himself 
from Dover Cliff, and not rather snatch him forci- 
bly from destruction? Truth, in its living influ- 



REMARKS ON AUTHORS. 299 

ence on the heart, will shew itself in consecrated- 
ness and holy zeal. When teachers of religion 
are destitute of these qualities, the world readily 
infers that religion itself is a farce. Let us do the 
world justice. It has very seldom found a con- 
siderate, accommodating, and gentle, but withal 
earnest, heavenly, and enlightened teacher. When 
it has found such, Truth has received a very ge- 
neral attention. Such a man was Hervey, and 
his works have met their reward. 



Homer approaches nearest of all the heathen 
poets to the grandeur of Hebrew Poetry. With 
the theological light of Scripture, he would have 
wonderfully resembled it. 



Hooker is incomparable in strength and sanctity. 
His first books are wonderful. I do not so per- 
fectly meet him, as he advances toward the close. 



Loskiel's " Account of the Moravian Missions 
among the North American Indians" has taught 
me two things. I have found in it a striking 
illustration of the uniformity with which the grace 
of God operates on men. Crantz, in his " Account 
of the Missions in Greenland," had shewn the 
grace of God working on a Man-Fish : on a stupid 



300 



REMAINS. 



— sottish — senseless creature — scarcely a remove 
from the fish on which he li?ed. Loskiel shews 
the same grace working on a Man-Devil : a fierce 
— Woody — revengeful warrior — dancing his infer- 
nal war-dance with the mind of a fury. Divine 
grace brings these men to the same point. It 
quickens, stimulates, and elevates theGreenlander : 
it raises him to a sort of new life : it seems almost 
to bestow on him new senses : it opens his eye, 
and bends his ear, and rouses his heart : and what 
it adds - it sanctifies. The same grace tames the 
high spirit of the Indian : it reduces him to the 
meekness, and docility, and siinplicity of a child. 
The evidence arising to Christianity from these facts 
is, perhaps, seldom sufficient, by itself, to convince 
the gainsay er : but, to a man who already believes, 
it greatly strengthens the reasons of his belief. I 
have seen also in these books, that the fish-boat, 
and the oil, and the tomahawk, and the cap of fea- 
thers excepted — a Christian Minister has to deal 
with just the same sort of creatures, as the Green- 
lander and the Indian, among civilized nations. 



Owen stands at the head of his class of divines. 
His scholars will be more profound and enlarged, 
and better furnished, than those of most other 
writers. His work on the Spirit has been my 
treasure-house, and one of my very first-rate 
books. Such writers as Riccaltoun rather 



REMARKS ON AUTHORS. 



301 



disqualify than prepare a minister for the imme- 
diate business of the pulpit. Original and pro- 
found thinkers enlarge his views, and bring into 
exercise the powers and energies of his own mind, 
and should therefore be his daily companions. 
Their matter must, however, be ground down be- 
fore it will be fit for the pulpit. Such writers as 
Owen, who, though less original, have united 
Detail with Wisdom, are copious in proper topics, 
and in matter better prepared for immediate use, 
and in furniture ready finished, as it were for the 
mind. 



Paley is an unsound casuist, and is likely to do 
great injury to morals. His extenuation of the 
crimes committed by an intoxicated man, for 
instance, is fallacious and dangerous. Multiply 
the crime of intoxication into the consequences 
that follow from it, and you have the sum total of 
the guilt of a drunken man. 



Rutherford's Letters is one of my classics, 
Were truth the beam, I have no doubt, that if 
Homer and Virgil and Horace and all that the 
world has agreed to idolize were weighed against 
that book, they would be lighter than vanity. He 
is a real original. There are in his Letters some 
inexpressibly forcible and arresting remonstrances 
with unconverted men. 



302 



REMAINS. 



I should not recommend a young Minister to pay 
much deference to the Scotch Divines. The 
Erskines, who were the best of them, are dry, and 
laboured, and prolix, and wearisome. He may 
find incomparable matter in them, but he should 
beware of forming his taste and manner after their 
model. I want a more kind-hearted and liberal 
sort of divinity. He had much better take up Bishop 
Hall. There is a set of excellent, but wrong- 
headed men, who would reform the London 
preachers on a more elaborate plan. They are not 
philosophers who talk thus. If Owen himself 
were to rise from the grave, unless it were for the 
influence of the great name which he would bring 
with him, he might close his days with a small 
congregation, in some little meeting-house. 



Shakspeare had a low and licentious taste. When 
he chose to imagine a virtuous and exalted cha- 
racter, he could completely throw his mind into 
it, and give the perfect picture of such a character. 
But he is at home in FalstafF. No high, grand, 
virtuous, religious aim beams forth in him. A 
man, whose heart and taste are modelled on the 
Bible, nauseates him in the mass, while he is en- 
raptured and astonished by the flashes of his pre- 
eminent genius. 



REMARKS ON AUTHORS. 



303 



" Have you read my Key to the Romans?" said 
Dr. Taylor, of Norwich, to Mr. Newton. — 
" I have turned it over." — " You have turned it 
over ! And is this the treatment a book must meet 
with, which has cost me many years of hard 
study? Must I be told, at last, that you have 
' turned it over/ and then thrown it aside ? You 
ought to have read it carefully, and weighed de- 
liberately what comes forward on so serious a 
subject." — " Hold! You have cut me out full em- 
ployment, if my life were to be as long as Methu- 
selah's. I have somewhat else to do in the short 
day allotted me, than to read whatever any one 
may think it his duty to write. When I read, I 
wish to read to good purpose ; and there are some 
books, which contradict on the very face of them 
what appear to me to be first principles. You 
surely will not say I am bound to read such books. 
If a man tells me he has a very elaborate argu- 
ment to prove that two and two make five, I have 
something else to do than to attend to this argu^ 
ment. If I find the first mouthful of meat which 
I take from a fine-looking joint on my table is 
tainted, I need not eat through it to be convinced 
I ought to send it away." 



I never read any sermons so much like Whit- 
field's manner of preaching, as Latimer's. You 
see a simple mind, uttering all its feelings; and 



304 



REMAINS. 



putting forth every thing as it comes, without any 
reference to books or men, with a naivetb seldom 
equalled. 



I admired Witsius's " (Economy of the Co- 
venants," but not so much as many persons. 
There is too much system. I used to study Com- 
mentators and Systems ; but I am come almost 
wholly, at length, to the Bible. Commentators 
are excellent, in general, where there are but few 
difficulties ; but they leave the harder knots still 
untied. I find in the Bible, the more 1 read, a 
grand peculiarity, that seems to say to all who 
attempt to systematize it — " I am not of your 
kind. I am not amenable to your methods of 
thinking. I am untractable in your hands. I 
stand alone. The great and wise shall never ex- 
haust rny treasures. By figures and parables I 
will come down to the feelings and understandings 
of the ignorant. Leave me as I am, but study 
me incessantly."' Calvin's Institutes are, to 
be sure, great and admirable, and so are his Com- 
mentaries ; but, after all, if we must have Com- 
mentators — as we certainly must — Poole is in- 
comparable, and I had almost said abundant of 
himself. 



Young is, of all other men, one of the most 
striking examples of the disunion of Piety from 



REMARKS ON AUTHORS. WO 

Truth. If we read his most true, impassioned, 
and impressive estimate of the World and of Re" 
ligion, we shall think it impossible that he was 
uninfluenced by his subject. It is, however, a 
melancholy fact, that he was hunting after prefer- 
ment at eighty years old; and felt and spoke like 
a disappointed man. The truth was pictured on 
his mind in most vivid colours. He felt it, while 
he was writing. He felt himself on a retired spot ; 
and he saw Death, the mighty Hunter, pursuing 
the unthinking world. He saw Redemption — its 
necessity and its grandeur; and, while he looked 
on it, he spoke as a man would speak whose mind 
and heart are deeply engaged. Notwithstanding 
all this, the view did not reach his heart. Had T 
preached in his pulpit with the fervour and interest 
that his " Night Thoughts" discover, he would 
have been terrified. He told a friend of mine, 
who went to him under religious fears, that he 

must GO MORE INTO THE WORLD! 



X 



ON THE 

SCRIPTURES. 



MISCELLANEOUS REMARKS, 



SCRIPTURES. 



I Am an entire disciple of Butler. He calls his 
book " Analogy;" but the great subject, from 
beginning to end, is human ignorance. Berkeley 
has done much to reduce man to a right view of 
his attainments in real knowledge ; but he goes 
too far: he requires a demonstration of self-evident 
truths: he requires me to demonstrate that that 
table is before me. Beattie has well replied to 
this error, in his " Immutability of Truth;" though 
it pleased Mr. Hume to call that book — " Philo- 
sophy for the Ladies." 

Metaphysicians seem born to puzzle and con- 
found mankind. I am surprized to hear men 
talk of their having demonstrated such and such 
points. Even Andrew Baxter, one of the best of 
these metaphysicians, though he reasons and spe- 
culates well, has not demonstrated to my mind 
one single point by his reasonings. They know 



* w REMAINS. 

nothing at all on the subject of moral and religious 
truth, beyond what God has revealed. I am so 
deeply convinced of this, that I can sit by and 
smile at the fancies of these men ; and especially 
when they fancy they have found out demon- 
strations. Why there are Demonstrators, who 
will carry the world before them; till another 
man rises, who demonstrates the very opposite, 
and then, of course, the world follows him! 

We are mere mites creeping on the earth, and 
oftentimes conceited mites too. If any Superior 
Being will condescend to visit us and teach us, 
something may be known. " Has God spoken to 
man?" This is the most important question that 
can be asked. All Ministers should examine this 
matter to the foundation. Many are culpably 
negligent herein. But, when this has been done, 
let there be no more questionings and surmises. 
My son is not, perhaps, convinced that I am en- 
titled to be his teacher. Let us try. If he finds 
that he knows more than I do — well : if he finds 
that he knows nothing, and submits — I am not to 
renew this conviction in his mind every time he 
chuses to require me to do so. 

If any honest and benevolent man felt scruples 
in his breast concerning Revelation, he would 
hide them there; and would not move wretched 
men from the only support, which they can have 
in this world. I am thoroughly convinced of the 
want of real integrity and benevolence in all 



ON THE SCRIPTURES. *> fl 

Infidels. And I am as thoroughly convinced of the 
want of real belief of the Scriptures, in most of 
those who profess to believe them. 

Metaphysicians can unsettle things, but they 
can erect nothing. They can pull down a church, 
but they cannot build a hovel. The Hutchin- 
sonians have said the best things about the Meta- 
physicians. I am no Hutchinsonian ; yet I see 
that they have data, and that there is something 
worth proving in what they assert. 



Principle is to be distinguished from prejudice. 
The man, who should endeavour to weaken my 
belief of the truth of the Bible, and of the fair 
deduction from it of the leading doctrines of Re- 
ligion, under the notion of their being prejudices, 
should be regarded by me as an assassin. He 
stabs me in my dearest hopes : he robs me of my 
solid happiness : and he has no equivalent to offer. 
This species of evidence of the truth and value 
of Scripture is within the reach of all men. It is 
my strongest. It assures me as fully as a voice 
could from heaven, that my principles are not 
prejudices. I see in the Bible my heart and the 
world painted to the life ; and I see just that 
provision made, which is competent to the 
highest ends and effects on this heart and this 
world. 



312 



REMAINS. 



The Bible resembles an extensive and highly 
cultivated garden, where there is a vast variety 
and profusion of fruits and flowers: some of 
which are more essential or more splendid than 
others ; but there is not a blade suffered to grow 
in it, which has not its use and beauty in the 
system. Salvation for sinners, is the grand Truth 
presented every where, and in all points of light; 
but the pure in heart sees a thousand traits of the 
Divine Character, of himself, and of the world — 
some striking and bold, others cast as it were into 
the shade, and designed to be searched for and 
examined — some direct, others by way of inti- 
mation or inference. 



He, who reads the Scriptures only in the trans- 
lation, is but meanly prepared as a public teacher. 
The habit of reading the Scriptures in the original 
throws a new light and sense over numberless pas- 
sages. The original has, indeed, been obtruded 
so frequently, and sometimes so absurdly, on the 
hearers, that their confidence in the translation 
has been shaken. The judicious line of conduct 
herein, is — To think with the wise, and talk with 
the vulgar — to attain, as far as possible and by all 
means, the true sense and force of every passage ; 
and, wherever that differs from the received trans- 
lation, work it in imperceptibly, that the hearers 



ON THE SCRIPTURES. 313 

may be instructed while they receive no preju- 
dice against that form in which they enjoy the 
Scriptures. 



No man will preach the Gospel so freely as 
the Scriptures preach it, unless he will submit 
to talk like an Antinomian, in the estimation of 
a great body of Christians; nor will any man 
preach it so practically as the Scriptures, 
unless he will submit to be called, by as large a 
body, an Arminian. Many think that they find 
a middle path : which is, in fact, neither one thing 
nor another; since it is not the incomprehensible, 
but grand plan of the Bible. It is somewhat of 
human contrivance. It savours of human poverty 
and littleness. 



Were the Scriptures required to supply a direct 
answer to every question which even a sincere 
enquirer might ask, it would be impracticable. 
They form, even now, a large volume. The 
method of instruction adopted in them is, there- 
fore, this : — The rule is given : the doctrine is 
stated: examples are brought forward — cases in 
point, Avhich illustrate the rule and the doctrine : 
and this is found sufficient for every upright and 
humble mind. 



314 



REMAINS. 



The simple and unprejudiced study of the 
Bible is the death of religious extravagance. 
Many read it under a particular bias of mind. 
They read books, written by others under the 
same views. Their preaching and conversation 
run in the same channel. If they could awaken 
themselves from this state, and come to read the 
w 7 hole Scripture for every thing which they could 
find there, they would start as from a dream — 
amazed at the humble, meek, forbearing, holy, 
heavenly character of the simple religion of the 
Scriptures, to which, in a greater or less degree, 
their eyes had been blinded. 



The right way of interpreting Scripture, is, to 
take it as we find it, without any attempt to 
force it into any particular system. Whatever 
may be fairly inferred from Scripture, we need 
not fear to insist on. Many passages speak the 
language of what is called Calvinism, and that in 
almost the strongest terms : I would not have a 
man clip and curtail these passages, to bring them 
down to some system : let him go with them in 
their free and full sense ; for, otherwise, if he do 
not absolutely pervert them, he will attenuate 
their energy. But, let him look at as many more, 
which speak the language of Arminianism, and 
let him go all the way with these also. God has 
been pleased thus to state and to leave the thing ; 



ON THE SCRIPTURES. 



and all our attempts to distort it, one way or the 
other, are puny and contemptible. 



A man may find much amusement in the Bible — 
variety of prudential instruction — abundance of 
sublimity and poetry : but, if he stops there, he 
stops short of its great end ; for, the testimony of 
Jesus is the spirit of prophecy. The grand secret 
in the study of the Scriptures, is, to discover 
Jesus Christ therein, the way, the truth, and the 
life. 



In reading the Scriptures, we are apt to think 
God farther removed from us, than from the Per- 
sons to whom He spake therein : the knowledge 
of God will rectify this error ; as if God could 
be farther from us than from them. In reading 
the Old Testament especially, we are apt to think 
that the things spoken there, in the prophet 
Hosea for instance, have little relation to us : the 
knowledge taught by Christian Experience will 
rectify this error; as if religion were not always 
the same sort of transaction between God and 
the soul. 



There are two different ways of treating the 
Truths of the Gospel — the scientific and the 



316 



REMAINS. 



simple. It was seriously given me in charge, 
when I first entered into the Ministry, by a fe- 
male who attended my Church, that I should 
study Baxter's " Catholic Theology." I did so : 
but the best idea that I acquired from this labour 
was, that the most sagacious and subtle men can 
make out little beyond the plain, obvious, and 
broad statement of Truth in the Scriptures. I 
should think it a very proper and suitable punish- 
ment for a conceited and pragmatical dogmatist, 
to oblige him to digest that book. Another great 
truth, indeed, we may gather from it: and that is, 
that the intemperate men, on either side, are very 
little aware of the consequences, which may be 
legitimately drawn from their principles. Even 
Dr. Owen has erred. I would not compare him, 
in this respect, with Baxter ; for he has handled 
his points with far greater wisdom and simplicity : 
yet he errs ex abundanti. He attempts to make 
out things with more accuracy, and clearness, and 
system, than the Bible will warrant. The Bible 
scorns to be treated scientifically. After all your 
accurate statements, it will leave you aground. 
The Bible does not come round, and ask our 
opinion of its contents. It proposes to us a Con- 
stitution of Grace, which we are to receive, though 
we do not wholly comprehend it. Numberless 
questions may be started on the various parts of 
this Constitution. Much of it I cannot under- 
stand, even of what respects myseif; but I am 



ON THE SCRIPTURES. 317 

called to act on it. And this is agreeable to 
analogy. My child will ask me questions on the 
fitness or unfitness of what I enjoin : but I silence 
him : " You are not yet able to comprehend this : 
your business is, to believe me and obey me." 
But the Schoolmen will not be satisfied with this 
view of things : yet they can make nothing out 
satisfactorily. They have their de re 9 and their 
de nomine: but nothing is gained by these attempts 
at clearness and nice distinctions. These very 
accurate men, who think they adjust every thing 
with precision, cannot agree among one another, 
and do little else than puzzle plainer minds. 



Whatever definitions men have given of Reli- 
gion, I can find none so accurately descriptive of 
it as this — that it is such a belief of the Bible as 
maintains a living influence on the heart. Men 
may speculate, criticise, admire, dispute about, 
doubt, or believe the Bible; but the religious 
man is such, because he so believes it, as to carry 
habitually a practical sense of its truths on his 
mind. 



The fears of the general class of Christians are 
concerned about the superstructure of religion ; 
but those of speculative minds chiefly relate to 
the foundation. The less thinking man doubts 



318 



REMAINS. 



whether he is on the foundation : he, whose mind 
is of a more intellectual turn, doubts concerning 
the foundation itself. I have met with many of 
these speculative cases. Attacks of this nature 
are generally sudden. A suspicion will, by sur- 
prise, damp the heart ; and, for a time, will paint 
the Bible as a fable. I have found it useful, on 
such occasions, to glance over the whole thread 
of Scripture. The whole, presented in such a 
view, brings back the mind to its proper tone : 
the indelible characters of Simplicity and Truth 
impress with irresistible effect that heart, which 
can discern them as having once felt them. 



ON THE 



OLD AND NEW DISPENSATIONS. 



X HE Old and New Testaments contain but one 
scheme of Religion. Neither part of this scheme 
can be understood without the other ; and there- 
fore, great errors have arisen from separating 
them. They are like the rolls on which they 
were anciently written, before books of the pre- 
sent form were invented. It is but one subject 
and one system, from beginning to end ; but the 
view which we obtain of it grows clearer and 
clearer, as we unwind the roll that contains it. 



There is one grand and striking feature of dis- 
tinction between the spirit of the Old Testament 
Dispensation and that of the New. 

The Old Dispensation was a dispensation of 
limits, waymarks, forms, and fashions: every 
thing was weighed and measured : if a man did 




320 



REMAINS. 



but gather sticks on the Sabbath, he was to be 
stoned without mercy : if a Jew brought an offer- 
ing, it was of no avail if not presented at the door 
of the Tabernacle : the manner, the time, the cir- 
cumstances were all minutely instituted ; and no 
devotion or piety of spirit could exempt a man 
from the yoke of all these observances, for God 
had appointed these as the way in which he chose 
that a devout Jew should express his state of 
mind. 

But the New Dispensation changed the whole 
system. Religion was now to become more pe- 
culiarly a spiritual transaction between God and 
the soul : and independent, in a higher measure 
than ever before, of all positive institutions. Its 
few simple institutions had no further object, than 
the preservation of the unity, order, soundness, 
and purity of the Church — in regard to doctrine, 
government, and discipline. 

Nor had these appointments that character of 
unaccommodating inflexibility, which marked the 
institutions of the Old Dispensation. All nations, 
men of all habits and manners, are to drink life 
from the beneficent stream as it flows. It is to 
throw down no obstructions, that are not abso- 
lutely incompatible with its progress. But it is 
appointed to pervade every place which it visits. 
Some, it enters without obstruction, and passes 
directly through. In some, it meets with mounds 
and obstacles ; yet rises till it finds an entrance. 



ON THE SCRIPTURES. 



321 



Others are so fenced and fortified, that it winds 
round them and flows forward : continuing to do 
so, till it, at length, finds some method of insinu- 
ating itself. 

And thus the Dispensation of Grace in the 
Church accommodates itself to the various tem- 
pers and habits which it finds in different ages, 
nations, and bodies of men : it leaves in existence 
numberless opinions and prejudices, if they are 
not inconsistent with its main design, and mingles 
and insinuates itself among them. It has not 
limited Christianity to any one form of Church 
Polity, ordained and perfected in all its parts by 
divine authority: but Christians are left to act 
herein according to circumstances, and to the 
exercise of sound discretion under those circum- 
stances. 



t 



Y 



ON 

TYPICAL AND ALLEGORICAL 

EXPLANATIONS OF SCRIPTURE. 



I T might be expected, that, when God had deter- 
mined to send his Son into the world, there would 
be a train and concatenation of circumstances 
preparatory to his coming— that the History, 
which declared that he was to come, should ex- 
hibit many persons and things, which should form 
a grand preparation for the event, though not so 
many as an absurd fancy might imagine. 

There is a certain class of persons, who wish to 
rid themselves of the Types. Sykes insists that 
even the Brazen Serpent is called in by our Lord 
by way of illustration only, and not as a designed 
type. Robinson, of Cambridge, when he began 
to verge toward Socinianism, began to ridicule 
the types: and to find matter of sport in the 
pomegranates and the bells of the High Priest's 
garment. At all events, the subject should not 
be treated with levity and irreverence : it deserves 
serious reflection. 

With respect to the expediency of employing 
the types much in the pulpit, that is another ques- 
tion. I seldom employ them. I am jealous for 



ON THE SCRIPTURES. 323 

Truth and its Sanctions. The Old Dispensation 
was a Typical Dispensation : but the New is a 
dispensation unrolled. When speaking of the 
Typical Dispensation, we must admire a master, 
like St. Paul. But to us, modesty becomes a 
duty in treating such subjects in our ministry. 
Remember, " This is none other but the house of 
God ! and this is the gate of heaven ! How dread- 
ful if I lead thousands with nonsense! — if I lose 
the opportunity of impressing solid truths ! — if I 
waste their precious time !" 

A Minister should say to himself: I would labour 
to cut off occasions of objecting to the Truth. I 
would labour to grapple with men's consciences. 
I would shew them that there is no strange twist 
in our view of religion. I must avoid as much 
as possible, having my judgment called in ques- 
tion : many watch for this, and will avail them- 
selves of any advantage. Some who hear me, are 
thus continually seeking excuses for not listening 
to the warnings and invitations of the word : they 
are endeavouring to get out of our reach; but I 
would hold them fast with such passages as, 
" What shall a man give in exchange for his soul!" 

Many men labour to make the Bible their 
Bible. This is one way of getting its yoke off 
their necks. The meaning, however, of the Bi- 
ble, is the Bible. If I preach, then, on Imputed 
Righteousness, for instance, why should I preach 
from the skies pour down righteousness, and then 



324 



REMAINS. 



anathematize men for not believing the doctrine, 
when it is not declared in the passage, and there 
are hundreds of places so expressly to the point? 

Most of the folly on this subject of allegorical 
interpretation, has arisen from a want of holy awe 
on the mind. An evil fashion may lead some men 
into it ; and so far, the case is somewhat extenu- 
ated. We should ever remember, however, that 
it is a very different thing to allegorize the New 
Dispensation from allegorizing the Old : the New 
is a Dispensation of substance and realities. 

When a careless young man, I remember to 
have felt alarms in my conscience from some 
preachers; while others, from this method of treat- 
ing their subjects, let me off easily. I heard the 
man as a weak allegorizer : I despised him as a 
foolish preacher: till I met with some plain, 
simple, solid man who seized and urged the ob- 
vious meaning. I shall, therefore, carry to my 
grave a deep conviction of the danger of entering 
far into typical and allegorical interpretations. 

Accommodation of Scripture, if sober, will give 
variety. The Apostles do this so far as to shew 
that it may have its use and advantage. It should, 
however, never be taken as a ground-work, but 
employed only in the way of allusion. I may use 
the passage There is a friend that sticketh closer 
than a brother, by way of allusion to Christ ; but 
I cannot employ it as the ground-work of a dis- 
course on him. 



ON THE 

DIVERSITY OF CHARACTER 

IN 

CHRISTIANS, 

AND ON 

CORRECTING THE DEFECTS IN OUR CHARACTER. 



In DISCOVERING AND COUNTERACTING THE 
DEFECTS OF OUR OWN CHARACTER, it is of chief 

importance that we really intend to ascertain the 
truth. 

The intention is extremely defective in us 
all. The man, who thinks he has such honest 
intention, yet has it very imperfectly. He says 
— " Touch me : but touch me like a Gentleman. 
Do not intrude on the delicacies of society. The 
real meaning of which is, that he has no intention 
of hearing the truth from you. A man, who has 
a wound to be healed, comes to the surgeon with 
such an intention to get it healed, that if he sus- 
pected his skill or his fidelity he would seek 
another. 

Intention, or a man's really desiring to know 
the truth concerning himself, would produce 



326 



REMAINS. 



attention. He would soon find, that there is 
little close business in a man, who does not 
withdraw from the world. 

He will begin with self-suspicion. " Perhaps I 
am such or such a man. I see defects in all my 
friends, and I must be a madman not to suppose 
that I also have mine. I see defects in my 
friends, which they not only do not themselves 
see ; but they will not suffer others to shew these 
defects to them. 1 must, therefore, take it for 
granted that I am a more foolish and pragmatical 
fellow than I can conceive." 

If he begin thus, then he will be willing to pro- 
ceed a step further: " Let me try if I cannot 
reach these defects ." I have found out myself 
by seeing my picture in another man. I would 
choose men of my own constitution : other men 
would give me no proper picture of myself. In 
such men, I can see actions to be ridiculous or 
absurd, when I could not have seen them to be 
so in myself. We may learn some features of our 
portrait from enemies : an enemy gives a hard 
feature probably, but it is often a truer likeness 
than can be obtained from a friend. What with 
your friend's tenderness for you, and your own 
tenderness for yourself, you cannot get at the 
true feature. We should, moreover, , encourage 
our friends. You cannot, in one case in ten, go 
to a man on a business of this nature, without 
offending him. He will allege such and such 



DIVERSITY OF CHARACTER IN CHRISTIANS. 327 

excuses for the defect, and fritter it away to no- 
thing. This shews the hypocrisy — the falsehood 
—the self-love— and the flattery of the heart. 
This endeavour to conceal or palliate defects, 
instead of a desire to discover them, grows up 
with us from infancy. There is something so de- 
ceitful in sin ! A man is brought to believe his own 
lie! He is so accustomed to hide himself from 
himself, that he is surprised when another detects 
and unmasks him. Hazael verily believed himself 
incapable of becoming what the prophet foretold. 

Many motives urge us to attempt a rectification 
of our defects. Consider the importance of cha- 
racter: he, who says he cares not what men 
think of him, is on a very low form in the school 
of experience and wisdom : character and money 
effect almost every thing! It should be consi- 
dered, too, how much we have smarted for want 
of attending to our defects : nineteen out of twenty 
of our smarting times, arise from this cause. 

In counteracting our defects, however, we 
should be cautious not to blunder by imitation of 
others. There are such men in the world as 
Saint-Errants. One of these men takes up the 
history of Ignatius Loyola; and nothing seems 
worthy of his endeavour, but to be just such a 
man in all the extravagancies of his character and 
conduct. We should search till we find where 
our character fails, and then amend it — not at- 
tempt to become another man. 



328 



REMAINS. 



A wise man, who is seriously concerned to learn 
the truth respecting himself, will not spurn it even 
from a fool. The great men, who kept fools in 
their retinue, learnt more truth from them than 
from their companions. A real self-observer will 
ask whether there is any truth in what the fool 
says of him. Nay, a truth, that may be uttered 
in envy or auger, will not lose its weight with 
him. The man, who is determined to find happi- 
ness, must bear to have it even beaten into him. 
No man ever found it by chance, or " yawned it 
into being with a wish." When I was young, my 
mother had a servant whose conduct I thought 
truly wise. A man was hired to brew; and this 
servant was to watch his method, in order to 
learn his art. In the course of the process, some- 
thing was done which she did not understand. 
She asked him, and he abused her with the vilest 
epithets for her ignorance and stupidity. My 
mother asked her when she related it, how she 
bore such abuse. " I would be called," said she, 
worse names a thousand times, for the sake of the 
information which I got out of him." 

If a man would seriously set himself to this 
work, he must retire from the crowd. He must 
not live in a bustle. If he is always driving through 
the business of the day, he will be so in harness 
as not to observe the road he is going. 

He must place perfect standards; before his 
eyes. Every man has his favourite notions ; and, 



DIVERSITY OF CHARACTER IN CHRISTIANS. 329 



therefore, no man is a proper standard. The 
perfect standard is only to be found in Scripture. 
Elijah meets Ahab, and holds up the perfect 
standard before his eyes, till he shrinks into him- 
self.* I have found great benefit in being sickened 
and disgusted with the false standards of men. I 
turn, with stronger convictions, to the perfect 
standards of God's Word. 

He should also commune with his own heart 
upon his bed — " How did I fall, at such or such a 
time, into my peculiar humours ! Had any other 
man done so, I should have lost my patience 
with him." 

Above all, he must make his defects matter of 
constant prayer — Search me, O God, and know my 
heart: try me, and know my thoughts: And see if 
there be any wicked way in me, and lead me in the 
way everlasting. 



Men are to be estimated, as Johnson says, by the 
mass of character. A block of tin may have a 
grain of silver, but still it is tin ; and a block of 
silver may have an alloy of tin, but still it is silver. 
The mass of Elijah's character was excellence ; 
yet he was not without the alloy. The mass of 
Jehu's character was base : yet he had a portion 
of zeal which was directed by God to great ends. 
Bad men are made the same use of as scaffolds ; 

* 1 Kings xviii. 17, &c. 



330 



REMAINS. 



they are employed as means to erect a building, 
and then are taken down and destroyed. 



We must make great allowance for constitution. 
I could name a man, who, though a good man, is 
more unguarded in his tongue than many immoral 
persons : shall I condemn him ? he breaks down 
here, and almost here only. On the other hand, 
many are so mild and gentle, as to make one 
wonder how such a character could be formed 
without true grace entering into its composition. 



God has given to every man a peculiar constitu- 
tion. No man is to say " I am such or such a 
man, and I can be no other — such or such is my 
way, and I am what God made me." This is 
true, in a sound sense ; but, in an unsound sense, 
it has led men foolishly and wickedly to charge 
their eccentricities, and even their crimes, on God. 
It is every Mian's duty to understand his own con- 
stitution ; and to apply to it the rein or the spur, 
as it may need. All men cannot do, nor ought 
they to do, all things in the same way, nor even the 
same things. But there are common points of 
duty, on which all men of all habits are to meet. 
The free horse is to be checked, perhaps, up-hill, 
and the sluggish one to be urged : but the same 
spirit, which would have exhausted itself before, 



DIVERSITY OF CHARACTER IN CHRISTIANS. 331 

shews itself probably in resistance down-hill, 
when he feels the breeching press upon him be- 
hind — but he must be whipped out of his re- 
sistance. 



There is a large class of Christians, who want 
discrimination in religion. They are sound and 
excellent men, but they are not men of deep 
experience. They are not men of Owen's, Gilpin's, 
Rutherford's, Adam's, or Brainerd's school. 
They have a general, but not a minute acquaint- 
ance, with the combat between Sin and Grace in 
the heart. I have learnt not to bring deeply ex- 
perimental subjects before such persons. They 
cannot understand them, but are likely to be dis- 
tressed by them. This difference between per- 
sons of genuine piety arises from constitution — or 
from the manner in which the grace of God first 
met them — or from the nature and degree of 
temptation through which God has led them. A 
mind finely constituted, or of strong passions — a 
mind roused in its sins, rather than one drawn in- 
sensibly—a mind trained in a severe school for 
high services — is generally the subject of this 
deeply interior acquaintance with religion. 



There is a great diversity of character among 
real Christians. Education, Constitution, and Cir- 
cumstances will fully explain this diversity. 



332 



REMAINS. 



He has seen but little of life, who does not dis- 
cern every where the effects of education on 
men's opinions and habits of thinking. Two 
children bring out of the nursery that, which dis- 
plays itself throughout their lives. And who is 
the man, that can rise above his dispensation, and 
can say " You have been teaching me nonsense?" 

As to constitution— look at Martin Luther: 
we may see the man every day : his eyes, and 
nose, and mouth attest his character. Look at 
Melanchton : he is like a snail with his couple of 
horns : he puts out his horns and feels — and feels 
— and feels. No education could have rendered 
these two men alike. Their difference began in 
the womb. Luther dashes in saying his things: 
Melanchton must go round about — he must con- 
sider what the Greek says, and what the Syriac 
says. Some men are born minute men — lexico- 
graphers—of a German character; they will hunt 
through libraries to rectify a syllable. Other 
men are born keen as a razor : they have a sharp, 
severe, strong acumen: they cut every thing to 
pieces : their minds are like a case of instruments ; 
touch which you will, it wounds ; they crucify a 
modest man. Such men should aim at a right 
knowledge of character. If they attained this, 
they would find out the sin that easily besets 
thenj. The greater the capacity of such men, 
the greater their cruelty. They ought to blunt 
their instruments. They ought to keep them in 



DIVERSITY OF CHARACTER IN CHRISTIANS. 333 



a case. Other men are ambitious — fond of power : 
pride and power give a velocity to their motions. 
Others are born with a quiet, retiring mind. Some 
are naturally fierce, and others naturally mild and 
placable. Men often take to themselves great 
credit for what they owe entirely to nature. If 
we would judge rightly, we should see that nar- 
rowness or expansion of mind, niggardliness or 
generosity, delicacy or boldness, have less of 
merit or demerit than we commonly assign to 
them. 

Circumstances, also, are not sufficiently taken 
into the account, when we estimate character. 
For example — we generally censure the Reformers 
and Puritans as dogmatical, morose, systematic 
men. But, it is easier to walk on a road, than to 
form that road. Other men laboured, and we have 
entered into their labours. In a fine day, I can 
walk abroad ; but, in a rough and stormy day, I 
should find it another thing to turn Coachman 
and dare all weathers. These men had to bear 
the burden and heat of the day : they had to fight 
against hard times : they had to stand up against 
learning and power. Their times were not like 
ours : a man may now think what he will, and 
nobody cares what he thinks. A man of that 
school was, of course, stiff, rigid, unyielding. 
Tuckney was such a man: Whichcot was for 
smoothing things, and walking abroad. We see 
circumstances operating in many other w r ays. A 



334 



REMAINS. 



Minister unmarried, and the same man married, 
are very different men. A Minister in a small 
parish, and the same man in a large sphere where 
his sides are spurred and goaded, are very dif- 
ferent men. A Minister on tenter-hooks-^-ha- 
rassed— schooled, and the same man nursed— 
cherished — put into a hot-house, are very different 
men. Some of us are hot-house plants. We grow 
tall : not better — not stronger. Talents are 
among the circumstances which form the diversity 
of character. A man of talents feels his own 
powers, and throws himself into that line which 
he can pursue with most success. Saurin felt that 
he could flourish — lighten — thunder — enchant 
like a magician. Every one should seriously con- 
sider, how far his talents and turn of mind and 
circumstances drive him out of the right road. It 
is an easy thing for a man of vigour to bring a 
quiet one before his bar : and it is as easy for this 
quiet man to condemn the other : yet both may 
be really pious men— -serving God with their best 
powers. Every man has his peculiar gift of God ; 
one after this manner, and the other after that. 



ON THE 



FALLEN NATURE OF MAN. 



T seem to acquire little new knowledge on any 
subject, compared to that which I acquire con- 
cerning man. This subject is inexhaustible. I 
have lately read Colquhon's Treatise on the 
" Police of the Metropolis," and Barruel's " Me- 
moirs of Jacobinism." When we preachers draw 
pictures of human nature in the pulpit, we are told 
that we calumniate it. Calumniate it! — Let such 
censurers read these writers, and confess that we 
are novices in painting the vices of the heart. All 
of us live to make discoveries of the evils of the 
heart — not of its virtues. All our new knowledge 
of human nature is occupied with its evil. 



Bartholomew Fair is one of the most perfect 
exhibitions of unrestrained human nature in the 
whole world. The Monkey, the Tyger, the 
Wolf, the Hog, and the Goat, are not only to be 
found in their own, but in human form ; with all 



336 



REMAINS. 



their savageness, brutality, and filthiness. It 
displays human nature in its most degraded, ridi- 
culous, and absurd conditions. The tyger may 
be seen in a quiescent state, if we pass through 
Dyot Street: he couches there: he blinks. But, 
at Bartholomew Fair, he is rampant — vigorous — 
fierce. Passing through a Fair in a country town, 
I witnessed a most instructive scene. Two 
withered, weather-beaten wretches were standing 
at the door of a show-cart, and receiving two- 
pences from sweet, innocent, ruddy country girls, 
who paid their money, and dropped their curtsies; 
while these wretches smiled at their simplicity, 
and clapped them on the back as they entered 
the door. What a picture this of Satan ! He sets 
off his shows, and draws in heedless creatures, 
and takes from them every thing they have good 
about them ! There was a fellow dressed out as 
a zany, with a hump back and a hump belly, a 
lengthened nose, and a lengthened chin. To 
what a depth of degradation must human nature 
be sunk, to seek such resources ! I derived more 
instruction from this scene, than I could have 
done from many elaborate theological treatises. 



View man on whatever side we can — in his sen- 
sualities, or in his ferocities — in the sins of his 
flesh, or in the sins of his spirit: — catch him 
when and where you will — his condition is 



ON THE FALLEN NATURE OF MAN. 337 

deplorable. While he is sunk in the mass himself, 
he has no perception of his state : bat, when he 
begins to emerge, he looks down with amazement. 
He sees but little, however, of its abomination ; 
because he has still an affinity with the evil. 



Human nature is like the sea, which gains by 
the flow of the tide in one place, what it has lost 
by the ebb in another. A man may acquiesce in 
the method which God takes to mortify his pride; 
but he is in danger of growing proud of the mor- 
tification: and so in other cases. 



t 



©N THE 



NEED OF GRACE. 



ThERE is something so remarkable in the 
genius and spirit of the Gospel, that it is not to 
be understood by any force of speculation and 
investigation! Baxter attempted this method, 
and found it vain. The state of the heart has 
the chief influence, in the search after truth. 
Humility, contrition, simplicity, sanctity — these 
are the handmaids of the understanding in the 
investigation of religion. 



How is it that some men labour in divine things 
night and day, but labour in vain? How is it that 
men can turn over the Bible from end to end, to 
support errors and heresies — absurdities and blas- 
phemies? They take not the spirit with the 
word. A spiritual understanding must be given — 
a gracious perception — a right taste. 



ON THE NEED OF GRACE. 339 

H A very extraordinary thing" said one, " if I, 
who have read the Bible over and over in the 
original languages — have studied it day and night 
— and have written criticisms and comments on it: 
a very extraordinary thing that I should not be 
able to discover that meaning in the Scriptures, 
which is said to be so plain that a way-faring man 
though a fool shall not err in discovering it !" And 
so it is extraordinary till we open this Bible; and 
there we see the fact explained. The man who 
approaches the word of God in his own wisdom, 
shall not find what the fool shall discover under 
the teaching of divine wisdom : For it is written, 
I ivill destroy the ivisdom of the wise, and will 
bring to nothing the understanding of the prudent 
— and God hath chosen the foolish things of the 
world to confound the wise. 



God, in his Providence, seems to make little 
account of the measures and contrivances of men, 
in accomplishing his designs. He will do the 
work, and his hand will be seen in the doing of it. 
We are obliged to wait for the tide. When that 
flows, and the wind sets in fair, let us hoist the 
sails. When the tide has left a ship on the beach, 
an army may attempt to move it in vain ; but, 
when she is floated by the water, a small force 
moves her. We must wait for openings in Provi- 



340 



REMAINS. 



dence. In this light I view the darkness of the 
Heathen World. Let us follow every apparent 
leading of Providence, in our endeavours to com- 
municate light to the Heathen; but, still, the 
opening and the whole work must be of God. 
Thousands, indeed, hear the Gospel, who are 
no more impressed by it than though they were 
Heathens. The minds of some men will stand 
as it were a regular blockade, and yet yield to a 
side-blow — sit unchanged under a searching mi- 
nistry, and yet fall beneath a casual word. I 
know such cases. We might account, indeed, 
for them, in some measure, as philosophers. The 
miud, which plants itself against and repels the 
formal and avowed attacks of the preacher, may 
be surprized by a hint addressed, perhaps, to ano- 
ther: yet, after all, the whole work is of God. 
We may make very little, therefore, of the ve- 
hicle. The Gospel — the wants of men — the in- 
disposition of the heart— and the mighty power of 
God — are always and universally the same. By 
whatever vehicle God conveys that mighty energy, 
which disposes man to find the relief of his wants 
in the Gospel, he still is the worker. It is a di- 
vine operation of God's Holy Spirit. If God 
would raise up Heathen Princes with the spirit of 
Peter the Great or Kouli Khan, and send them 
forth under the powerful influence of Christianity 
to proselyte their subjects, we might expect the 



ON THE NEED OF GRACE. 341 

end to be accomplished: but this is a scheme 
suited to our littleness, and not to Him, ivhose 
thoughts are not as our thoughts, and whose ways 
are not as our ivays. 



A lady proposed to me a case, which seemed 
to her to decide against those views of religion 
called evangelical. She knew a most amiable 
girl, who was respectful and attentive to her 
parents, and engaging and lovely to all connected 
with her: who had, however, no objection to 
seeing a play ; and had certainly nothing of that, 
which she knew I should call religion : but she 
asked if I could believe that God would condemn 
such a character to everlasting misery. Many 
persons view things in this way. They set them- 
selves up to dictate to God what should be done, 
on points which he only can determine. If these 
persons are ever cured of this evil, it must pro- 
bably be in some such way as that by which it 
pleased God to teach Job. Job could assert his 
integrity and his character against the arguments 
of his friends ; but, when God asked Where ivast 
thou, when I laid the foundations of the earth ? 
Job prostrates his soul with this declaration — 
J have heard of thee ivith the hearing of the ear, 
but now mine eye seeth thee. Wherefore I abhor 
myself and repent in dust and ashes. 



342 



REMAINS. 



Every thinking man will look round him, when 
he reflects on his situation in this world ; and will 
ask, " What will meet my case? What is it that I 
want? What will satisfy me? I look at the rich — 
and I see Ahab, in the midst of all his riches, 
sick at heart for a garden of herbs ! I see Dives, 
after all his wealth, lifting up his eyes in hell, and 
begging for a drop of water to cool the rage of his 
sufferings ! I see the Rich Fool summoned away, 
in the very moment when he was exulting in his 
hoards ! If I look at the wise — I see Solomon, 
with all his wisdom, acting like a fool ; and I 
know, that, if I possessed all his wisdom, were 
I left to myself I should act as he did. I see 
Ahithophel, with all his policy, hanging himself 
for vexation ! If I turn to men of pleasure — 
I see that the very sum of all pleasure is, that it 
is Satan's bed into which he casts his slaves ! I 
see Esau selling his birth-right for a mess of pot- 
tage! I see Solomon, after all his enjoyments, 
leaving his name a scandal to the Church to the 
latest age! If I think of honour — take a walk 
in Westminster Abbey — there is an end of all en- 
quiry. There I walk among the mighty dead ! 
There is the winding up of human glory! And 
what remains of the greatest men of my country? 
— A boasting epitaph! None of these things, 
then, can satisfy me! I must meet death — I 
must meet judgment — I must meet God — I must 
meet Eternity! 



ON THE 



OCCASIONS OF ENMITY 

AGAINST 

CHRISTIANITY. 



ThE cause of enmity against real Christianity 
is in the heart. The angel Gabriel might exhibit 
the truth, but the heart would rise in enmity. To 
suppose that there is any way of preaching the 
Cross so as not to offend the world, is to know 
nothing of the subject. 

There are many occasions, however, of calling 
forth this enmity. Any man, who should bleed 
me, would put me to pain ; but he would greatly 
aggravate my pain, if he rudely tore my skin. 
Occasions may render the reception of that truth 
morally impossible, which, under the most favour- 
able circumstances, is received with difficulty. 

Ignorance, in Ministers, is an occasion of ex- 
citing enmity against Christianity. A man may 
betray ignorance on almost every subject, except 
the way of salvation. But if others see him to be 
a fool off his own ground, they will think him a 



344 



REMAINS. 



fool on that ground. It is a great error to rail 
against Human Learning, so as to imply an under- 
valuing of Knowledge. A man may have little 
of what is called learning, but he must have know- 
ledge. Bunyan was such a man. 

Religious profession was, at first, a conflict — 
a sacrifice : now it is become a trade. The 
world sees this spirit pervade many men: and it 
is a great occasion of enmity. Men of learning 
and character have confirmed this impression : 
they have brought out this mischief, and exhibited 
it to the world. Let any man look into Warbur- 
ton's " Doctrine of Grace," and he may sit down 
and wonder that God should suffer such occasions 
of enmity to arise. 

Fanatical times furnish another occasion. 
The days of Cromwell, for instance. The great 
enemy of godliness will never want instruments to 
make the best of such subjects of ridicule. As 
long as such a book as Butler's Hudibras is in the 
world, it will supply occasions of enmity against 
real religion. 

An unholy, insolent professor of reli- 
gion occasions enmity. He scorns and insults 
mankind. His spirit is such as to give them occa- 
sion of contemning the truth which he professes. 
The world will allow r some men to call it to ac- 
count : they will feel a weight of character in a 
holy and just man. 

Eccentricity, in religious men, is another 



ON ENMITY AGAINST CHRISTIANITY. 345 

occasion of enmity. Ask an eccentric man a 
question: he will stare in your face, and look 
very spiritual. I knew one of these men who 
called out to a farmer as he was passing, 
" Farmer! what do you know of Jesus Christ?" 
Much spiritual pride lurks under this conduct. 
There is want of breeding and good-sense. The 
world is led to form wrong associations by such 
characters : " Religion makes a man a fool, or 
mad : therefore I will not become religious." 

Injudicious preaching increases the offence 
of the Cross. Strange interpretations of Scrips 
ture— ludicrous comparisons — silly stories— talk- 
ing without thinking: — these are occasions of 
enmity. 

The loose and indiscreet conduct of Pro- 
fessing Christians, particularly of Ministers, is 
another occasion. The world looks at Ministers 
out of the pulpit, to know what they mean when 
in it. 

An ostentatious spirit in a professor of reli- 
gion does great injury — that giving out that he is 
some great one. Even a child will often detect 
this spirit, when we think no one discovers it. 

The manner of conducting the devotional 
part of public service is sometimes offensive. 
It is as much as to say, " We mean nothing by 
this service*. Have patience, and you shall hear 
me !" 

* Exod xii m. 



346 



REMAINS. 



Slighting the offence of irregularity 
has done much harm. It was a wise reply of a 
Spanish Minister to his King ; " Omit this affair : 
it is but a Ceremony !" — " A Ceremony ! Why 
the King is a Ceremony !" 

Good men have given occasion of offence by 
maintaining suspicious connections. There 
is a wide difference between my not harassing 
and exposing a doubtful character, and my in- 
dorsing and authenticating him. 

Contempt of men's prejudices of educa- 
tion will offend. It was not thus with St. Paul : 
I am made all things to all men, that I mig ht by 
all means save some. 

A want of the spirit of the cross in its 
professors increases the offence of the cross — 
that humility, patience, and love to souls, which 
animated Christ when he offered himself on the 
Cross for the sins of the world. 

These are some of the stumbling-blocks in the 
way of the world. And ivoe unto the world, says 
our Lord, because of offences ! for it must needs be 
that offences come, but woe unto him by whom the 
offence cometh ! Every man, who is zealous for 
the diffusion of true religion, should keep his eye 
on all occasions of offence, since religion, of 
itself and in its own native beauty, has to encoun- 
ter the natural enmity of the degenerate heart. 



ON 



RELIGIOUS RETIREMENT. 



I T is difficult to speak on the subject of reli- 
gious retirement. I am fully persuaded that 
most religious tradesmen are defective in this 
duty, those especially in this great city. I tell 
every one of them so with whom I am intimately 
acquainted, and they all contest the point with 
me. 

Yet there are some considerations, which, in 
my own private judgment concerning the thing, 
lead me to think that the religion of a great city 
is to be viewed in an aspect of its own. I say not 
this to those men whom 1 see endangered by the 
spirit of such a place. Give them an inch, and 
they will take an ell. But I learn from it to aim 
at possibilities, and not to bend the bow till it 
breaks. 

I say, every where and to all — " You must 
hold intercourse with God, or your soul will die. 
You must walk with God, or Satan will walk with 
you. You must grow in grace, or you will lose 
it : and you cannot do this, but by appropriating 



348 



REMAINS. 



to this object a due portion of your time, and dili- 
gently employing suitable means." But, having 
said this, I leave it. I cannot limit and define to 
such men the exact way in which they must apply 
these principles, but the principles themselves I 
insist on. What I ought to do myself under my 
circumstances, I know ; and what I ought to do 
were I in trade, I seem now to know : but what 
I really should do were I in trade, I know not ; 
and, because I know it not, I am afraid, in telling 
another man precisely how he ought to apply this 
principle, that I should act hypocritically and 
pharisaically. Stated seasons of retirement ought 
to be appointed and religiously observed, but the 
time and the measure of this retirement must be 
left to a man's own judgment and conscience. 

I am restrained from dogmatizing on this sub- 
ject, by reflecting on the sort of religion which 
seems in fact to be best suited to human nature 
itself ; and especially to human nature harassed, 
worried, loaded, and urged as it is in this great 
city. 

But I am restrained also by another considera- 
tion. — Difference of character seems to stamp a 
holy variety on the operation of religious principle. 
Some men live in a spirit of prayer, who are 
scarcely able to fix themselves steadily to the 
solemn act of prayer. Our characters are so 
much our own, that if a man were to come into 
my family in order to form himself on my model, 



ON RELIGIOUS RETIREMENT. 



349 



and to imitate me for a month, it might seriously 
injure him. I have a favourite walk of twenty 
steps in my study and chamber : that walk is my 
oratory : but if another man were obliged to walk 
as he prayed, it is very probable he could not 
pray at all. 

In defining the operation of religious principle, 
I am afraid of becoming an Albert Durer. Albert 
Durer gave rules for forming the perfect figure of 
a man. He marked and defined all the relations 
and proportions. Albert Durer's man became the 
model of perfection in every Academy in Europe ; 
and now every Academy in Europe has abandoned 
it, because no such figure w as ever found in na- 
ture. I am afraid of reducing the variety, which, 
to a certain degree, may be of God's own forming, 
to my notion of perfection. " You must maintain 
and cultivate a spirit of devotion" — I say to all : 
" but be ye judges, as conscientious men, of the 
particular means suited to your circumstances." 

The spirit of devotion should be our great aim. 
We are, indeed, buried in sense, and cannot pos- 
sibly attain or improve this spirit, but by proper 
means ; yet these means are to be adapted and 
varied to character and situation. 

" I must walk with God. In some way or 
other, whatever be my character or profession, I 
must acquire the holy habit of connecting every 
thing that passes in my house and affairs, with 
God. If sickness or health visit my family, my 



350 



REMAINS. 



eye must see and my heart must acknowledge the 
hand of God therein. Whether my affairs move 
on smoothly or ruggedly, God must be acknow- 
ledged in them. If I go out of my house or come 
into it, I must go out and come in as under the 
eye of God. If I am occupied in business all day 
long, I must still have the glory of God in my view. 
If I have any affair to transact with another, I must 
pray that God would be with us in that affair, 
lest we should blunder, and injure and ruin each 
other."— 

This is the language of a real Christian. But, 
instead of such a spirit as this among the great 
body of tradesmen professing themselves religious 
—-what do we see but a driving, impetuous pursuit 
of the world! — and, in this pursuit, not seldom — 
mean, low, suspicious, yea immoral practices ! 

Yet I once went to a friend for the express 
purpose of calling him out into the world. 1 
said to him — " It is your duty to accept the loan 
of ten thousand pounds, and to push yourself 
forward into an ampler sphere." But he was a 
rare character: and his case was rare. His em- 
ployers had said, " We are ashamed you should 
remain so long a servant in our house, with the 
whole weight of affairs on you. We wish you to 
enter as a principal with us, and will advance you 
ten thousand pounds. It is the custom of the 
city — it is your due — we are dissatisfied to see 
you in your present sphere." I assured him that 



ON RELIGIOUS RETIREMENT. 351 

it appeared to me to be his duty to accede to the 
proposal. But I did not prevail He said — 
" Sir, I have often heard from you that it is no 
easy thing to get to heaven. I have often heard 
from you that it is no easy thing to master the 
world. I have every thing I wish. More would 
encumber me — increase my difficulties — and en- 
danger me." 



Solitude shews us what we should be : Society 
shews us what we are. Yet, in the theory, Soli- 
tude shews us our true character better than 
Society. A man in his closet will find Nature 
putting herself forth in actings, which the pre- 
sence of Others would restrain him from bringing 
into real effect. She schemes and she wishes, 
here, without reserve. She is pure nature. An 
enlightened and vigilant self-observer is surprised 
and alarmed. He puts himself on his guard. 
He goes forth armed into the world. But Society 
shews him that nature is practically evil. The 
circumstances of the day as they arise carry him 
away. If he could abstract himself, and follow 
the actings of his own mind with an impartial eye, 
he could not believe himself to be the man who 
had entered into the world with such holy 
resolutions. 



352 



REMAINS 



Recollection is the life of Religion. The 
Christian wants to know no new thing, but to 
have his heart elevated more above the world 
by secluding himself from it as much as his duties 
will allow, that Religion may effect this its great 
end by bringing its sublime hopes and prospects 
into more steady action on the mind. 



I know not how it is, that some Christians can 
make so little of Recollection and Retirement. 
I find the spirit of the world a strong assimilating 
principle. I find it hurrying my mind away in its 
vortex, and sinking me among the dregs and filth 
of a carnal nature. Even my ministerial employ- 
ments would degenerate into a mere following of 
my trade and crying of my wares. I am obliged 
to withdraw myself regularly, and to say to my 
heart " What are you doing ? — Where are you ?" 



ON 

A SPIRITUAL MIND. 



Dr. Owen says, if a man of a carnal mind is 
brought into a large company, he will have much 
to do : if into a company of Christians, he will 
feel little interest : if into a smaller company en- 
gaged in religious exercises, he will feel still less: 
but if taken into a closet and forced to meditate 
on God and Eternity, this will be insupportable ! 

The spiritual man is born, as it were, into a 
new world. He has a new taste. He savours 
the things of the Spirit, He turns to God, as the 
needle to the pole. 

This is a subject of which many can understand 
but little. They want spiritual taste. Nay 
they account it enthusiasm. Bishop Horsley will 
go all the way with Christians into their princi- 
ples : but he thinks the feelings and desires of a 
spiritual mind enthusiastical. 

There are various CHARACTERISTICS of 
a spiritual mind. 

Self-loathing is a characteristic of such a 
mind. The axe is laid to the root of a vain-glo- 
rious spirit. 

f A a 



354 



REMAINS. 



It maintains, too, a walk and converse with 
God. Enoch walked with God. There is a trans- 
action between God and the spiritual mind: if 
the man feels dead and heartless, that is matter 
of complaint to God. He looks to God for wis- 
dom for the day — for the hour— for the business 
in hand. 

A spiritual mind refers its affairs to God. 
" Let God's will be obeyed by me in this affair ! 
His way may differ from that which I should 
choose : but let it be so ! Surely, I have behaved 
and quieted myself as a child that is weaned of his 
mother: my soul is even as a iveaned child." 

A spiritual mind has something of the nature of 
the sensitive-plant. " I shall smart if I touch 
this or that." There is a holy shrinking away 
from evil. 

A spiritual mind enjoys, at times, the influx 

OF A HOLY JOY AND SATISFACTION, which SUr- 

ppizes even itself. When bereaved of creature- 
comforts, it can sometimes find such a repose in 
Christ and his promises, that the man can say 
" Well ! it is enough : let God take from me what 
else he pleases !" 

A spiritual mind is a mortified mind. The 
Church of Rome talks much of mortification, but 
her mortification is not radical and spiritual. 
Simon Stylites will willingly mortify himself on 
his pillar, if he can bring people around him to 
pray to him to pray for them. But the spiritual 



ON A SPIRITUAL MIND. 



355 



mind must mortify itself in whatever would retard 
its ascent toward heaven: it must rise on the 
wings of faith, and hope, and love. 

A spiritual mind is an ingenuous mind. There 
is a sort of hypocrisy in us all. We are not quite 
stripped of all disguise. One man wraps round 
him a covering of one kind, and another of 
another. They, who think they do not this, yet 
do it though they know it not. 

Yet this spiritual mind is a sublime mind. It 
has a vast and extended view. It has seen the 
glory and beauty of Christ, and cannot therefore 
admire the goodly buildings of the Temple : as 
Christ, says Fenelon, had seen his Father's House, 
and could not therefore be taken with the glory 
of the earthly structure ! 

I would urge young persons, when they are 
staggered by the conversation of people of the 
world, to dwell on the characteristics of a spiritual 
mind. " If you cannot answer their arguments, 
yet mark their spirit : and mark what a contrary 
spirit that is w r hich you are called to cultivate." 

There are various MEANS of maintaining 
and promoting a spiritual mind. Beware of saying 
concerning this or that evil, Is it not a little one? 
Much depends on mortifying the body. There 
are silent marches which the flesh will steal on 
us : — the temper is too apt to rise : the tongue 
will let itself loose: the imagination, if liberty is 
given to it, will hurry us away. Vain company 



ft 

356 REMAINS. 

will injure the mind : carnal professors of religion 
especially will lower its tone : we catch a con- 
tagion from such men. Misemployment of time 
is injurious to the mind : when reflecting, in ill- 
ness, on my past years, I have looked back with 
self-reproach on days spent in my study : I was 
wading through history, and poetry, and monthly 
journals; but I was in my study! Another man's 
trifling is notorious to all observers : but what am 
/ doing ? — Nothing, perhaps, that has a reference 
to the spiritual good of my congregation ! I do 
not speak against a chastized attention to literature, 
but the abuse of it. Avoid all idleness : Exercise 
ihy self unto godliness : plan for God. Beware of 
temptation : the mind, which has dwelt on sinful 
objects, will be in darkness for days. Associate 
with spiritually-minded men : the very sight of a 
good man, though he says nothing, will refresh 
the soul. Contemplate Christ : be much in re- 
tirement and prayer: study the honour and glory 
gf your Master. 



ON 

DECLENSION IN RELIGION. 



A CHRISTIAN may decline far in religion, 
without being suspected. He may maintain ap- 
pearances. Every thing seems to others to go on 
well. He suspects himself ; for it requires great 
labour to maintain appearances ; especially in a 
Minister. Discerning hearers will, however, often 
detect such declensions. He talks over his old 
matters. He says his things, but in a cold and 
unfeeling manner. He is sound, indeed, in doc- 
trine ; perhaps more sound than before ; for there 
is a great tendency to soundness of doctrine, 
when appearances are to be kept up in a declining 
state of the heart. 

Where a man has real grace, it may be part of 
a dispensation toward him that he is suffered to 
decline. He walked carelessly. He was left to 
decline, that he might be brought to feel his need 
of vigilance. If he is indulging a besetting sin, it 
may please God to expose him, especially if he is 
a high-spirited man, that he may hang down his 



358 



REMAINS. 



head as long as he lives. He acted thus toward 
David and Hezekiah. But this is pulling down, 
in order to build up again. 

The CAUSES of a decline in religion should 
be remarked : — 

The world has always much to do in religious 
declension. A Minister is tempted, perhaps, to 
sacrifice every thing to a name. If any appetite 
is suffered to prevail, it will stupify the mind : re- 
ligion is an abstract and elevated affair : The way 
of life is above to the ivise, to depart from hell 
beneath. Keeping on good terms with those 
who respect us, is a snare. A speculative 
turn of mind is a snare: it leads to that evil 
heart of unbelief which departs from the Living 
God. Vain confidence thinks himself in no 
danger : he knows the truth : he can dispute for 
the truth : * What should we fear?" Why, that 
we have no fear. Trifling with conscience, is 
a snare : no man indulges himself in anything 
which his conscience tells him ought not to be 
done, but it will at length wear away his spiritu- 
ality of mind. 

The SYMPTOMS of a religions decline are 
many : — 

When a Minister begins to depart from God 
and to lose a spiritual. mind, he becomes fond 
sometimes of genteel company, who can en- 
tertain him, and who know how to respect his 
character ! This genteel spirit is suspicious : it is 



ON DECLENSION IN RELIGION. ^ 

associated with pride, and delicacy, and a love of 
ease : in short, it is the spirit of the world. It is 
the reverse of condescending to mean things : it is 
the reverse of the spirit of our Master. 

It is a symptom of decline, when a man will un- 
necessarily EXPOSE THE IMPERFECTIONS OF 

the religious world. " Such a man," he will 
say, " is fond of praying : but he is fond of money." 
This is the very opposite spirit to that of St. Paul, 
who speaks even weeping of those who mind 
earthly things. 

A violent sectarian spirit is a sign of reli- 
gious declension. Honest men stand firm for the 
vitals of religion. If the mind were right, the 
circumstantials of religion would not be made 
matters of fierce contention. The spirit of St. 
Paul was of another kind. If meat make my bro- 
ther to offend, I will eat no meat ivhile the ivorld 
standeth lest I make my brother to offend — One 
believeth that he may eat all things: another ivho 
is iveak, eateth herbs. Let not him, that eateth, 
despise him that eateth not ; and let not him, which 
eateth not, judge him that eateth. 

Aversion from reproof marks a state of reli- 
gious decline. The man cannot bear to have his 
state depicted, even in the pulpit. He calls the 
preaching, which searches and detects him, Ar- 
minian and legal. Hast thou found me, O mine 
enemy? Why should he quarrel with the truth ? If 
that truth is delivered in its just proportions, his 
quarrel is with God ! 



360 



REMAINS. 



Stupidity under chastisement proves a 
man to be under declension. He is not disposed 
to ask, Wherefore dost thou contend with me ? He 
is kicking against the pricks. He is stricken, hut 
has not grieved. He is chastised, as a bullock un- 
accustomed to the yoke. 

Such a man, too, has often a high mind. He 
is unhumbled — boasting — stout-hearted. He is 
ready to censure every one but himself. 

Unnecessary occupation is another evidence 
of declension. Some men are unavoidably much 
engaged in the world : to such men God will give 
especial grace, if they seek it; and they shall 
maintain a spirit of devotion even in the bustle 
and occupation of their affairs. But some men 
will be rich, and therefore fall into temptation and 
a snare : they will have shops in different parts of 
the town : they say they do not feel this affect 
their religious state : but I cannot believe them : 
a man is declined from God before he enters on 
such schemes : a spiritual and devout man will 
generally find the business in which he is already 
engaged a sufficient snare. 

In short, the Symptoms may be this or that, 
but the disease is a dead palsy. Ephraim !—he 
hath mixed himself among the people : Ephraim is 
a cake not turned. Strangers have devoured his 
strength, and he knoweth it not : yea, gray hairs 
are here and there upon him, yet he knoweth it not. 



ON A 



CHRISTIAN'S 



ASSOCIATING WITH IRRELIGIOUS PERSONS FOR 
THEIR GOOD. 



CHRIST is an example to us of entering into 
mixed society. But our imitation of him herein 
must admit of restrictions. A feeble man must 
avoid danger. If any one could go into society 
as Christ did, then let him go : let him attend 
marriage-feasts and Pharisees' houses. 

Much depends on a Christian's observing his 
call— the openings which Providence may make 
before him. It is not enough to say that he 
frequents public company in order to retard the 
progress of evil. 

But, when in company of people of the world, 
we should treat them kindly and tenderly — 
with feeling and compassion. They should be 
assisted, if they are inclined to receive assistance. 
But if a Christian falls into the society of a mere 
worldling, it must be like the meeting of two per- 
sons in rain — they will part as soon as possible. If 
a man loves such company, it is an evil symptom. 

It is a Christian's duty to maintain a kind in- 
tercourse, if practicable, with his relatives. And 




362 



REMAINS. 



he must duly appreciate their state: if not 
religious, they cannot see and feel and taste his 
enjoyments : they accommodate themselves to 
him, and he accommodates himself to them. It 
is much a matter of accommodation on both sides. 

Avoid disgusting such friends unneces- 
sarily. A precise man, for instance, must be 
humoured. Your friends set down your religion, 
perhaps, as a case of humour. 

Cultivate good sense. If your friends per- 
ceive you weak in any part of your views and 
conduct, they will think you weak in your religion. 

Avoid vain jangling. There is a disposi- 
tion in such friends to avoid important and pinch- 
ing truth. If you will converse with them on 
the subject of religion, they will often endeavour 
to draw you on to such points as predestination. 
They will ask you what you think of the salvation 
of infants and of the heathen. All this is meant 
to throw out the great question. 

Seize favourable occasions — not only the 
" mollia tempora fandi;" but when public cha- 
racters and public events furnish occasions of 
profitable reflection. 

Bring before your friends the extreme child- 
ishness of a sinful state. Treat worldly 
amusements as puerile things. People of the 
world are sick at heart of their very pleasures. 



ON THE 



CHRISTIAN SABBATH. 



It belongs to our very relation to God, to set 
apart a portion of our time for his 'service : but, 
as it might have been difficult for conscience to 
determine what that portion should be, God has 
prescribed it : and the ground of the observance 
remains the same, whether the remembrance of 
God's resting from his work, or any other reason, 
be assigned as the more immediate cause. 

The Jewish Sabbath was partly of political in- 
stitution, and partly of moral obligation. So far 
as it was a political appointment, designed to 
preserve the Jews distinct from other nations, it is 
abrogated : so far as it was of moral obligation, it 
remains in force. 

Our Lord evidently designed to relax the 
strictness of the observance. Christianity is not 
a hedge placed round a peculiar people. A slave 
might enter into the spirit of Christianity, though 
obliged to work as a slave on the Sabbath : he 
might be in the Spirit on the Lord's Day, though 
in the mines of Patmos. 



364 



REMAINS. 



Difficulties often arise in respect to the ob- 
servance of the Sabbath. I tell conscientious 
persons, " If you have the spirit of Christianity, 
and are in an employment contrary to Christianity, 
you will labour to escape from it, and God will 
open your way," If such a man's heart be right, 
he will not throw himself out of his employment 
the first day he suspects himself to be wrong, 
but he will pray and wait till his way shall be 
opened before him. 

Christ came not to abolish the Sabbath, but 
to explain and enforce it, as he did the rest of 
the Law. Its observance was no where positively 
enjoined by him, because Christianity was to be 
practicable, and was to go into all nations : and it 
goes thither stripped of its precise and various 
circumstances. / was in the Spirit on the Lord's 
Day, seems to be the soul of the Christian Sabbath. 

In this view of the day, a thousand frivolous 
questions concerning its observance would be 
answered. " What can I do?" says one: I an- 
swer, " Do what true servants of God will do. 
Bend not to what is wrong. Be in the Spirit. 
God will help you." 

In short, we are going to spend a Sabbath in 
Eternity. The Christian will acquire as much of 
the Sabbath-spirit as he can. And, in proportion 
to a man's real piety in every age of the Church, 
he will be found to have been a diligent observer 
of the Sabbath-Day. 



ON 

JUDGING JUSTLY. 



A PERFECTLY just and sound mind is a rare 
and invaluable gift. But it is still much more 
unusual to see such a mind unbiassed in all its 
actings. God has given this soundness of mind 
but to few ; and a very small number of those few 
escape the bias of some predilection, perhaps 
habitually operating ; and none are, at all times 
and perfectly, free. I once saw this subject forci- 
bly illustrated. A watch-maker told me that a 
gentleman had put an exquisite watch into his 
hands, that went irregularly. It was as perfect a 
piece of work as was ever made. He took it to 
pieces and put it together again twenty times. No 
manner of defect was to be discovered, and yet 
the watch went intolerably. At last it struck him, 
that, possibly, the balance-wheel might have been 
near a magnet. On applying a needle to it, he 
found his suspicion true. Here was all the mis- 
chief. The steel work in the other parts of the 
watch had a perpetual influence on its motions ; 
and the watch went as well as possible with a new 
wheel. If the soundest mind be magnetized by 
any predilection, it must act irregularly. 



366 



REMAINS. 



Prejudice is often the result of such strong asso- 
ciations, that it acts involuntarily, in spite of con- 
viction and resolution. The first step toward its 
eradication, is the persevering habit of presenting 
it to the mind in its true colours. 



If a man will look at most of his prejudices, he 
will find that they arise from his field of view 
being necessarily narrow, like the eye of the fly. 
He can have but little better notions of the whole 
scheme of things, as has been well said, than a 
fly on the pavement of St. Paul's Cathedral can 
have of the whole structure. He is offended, 
therefore, by inequalities, which are lost in the 
grand design. This persuasion will fortify him 
against many injurious and troublesome prejudices. 



Just judgment depends on the simplicity and 
the strength of the mind. The eye which con- 
veys a perfect idea of the scene to the mind, 
must be unclouded and strong. If the mental 
eye be not single, the judgment will be warped 
by some little, mean, and selfish interests ; and, 
if it be not capable of a wide and distant range, 
the decision will be partial and imperfect. For 
example: a man, with either of these failings, 
will be likely to blind his eyes from the conviction, 
that would dart on him, when he places a son or 



ON JUDGING JUSTLY. 367 



a friend in any sphere of influence, because he is 
his son or his friend ; when a single or a strong 
eye would shew him, that the interests of Reli- 
gion and Truth required him to prefer some other 
person. The mind must be raised above the 
petty interests and affairs of life, and pursue su- 
premely the glory of God and the Church. 



Some minds are so diseased, that they can see 
an affair only in that light, in which passion or 
predilection first presented it, or as it appears 
on the surface. The essence, the truth of the 
thing, which must give character to the whole, 
and on which all just decision must depend, may 
lie beneath the surface, and may be a nice affair. 
But such minds cannot enter into it. It is as 
though I should try to convince such persons — 
allowing me that the pineal gland is the seat of the 
soul — that however fair and perfect the form, the 
man wanted the essence of his being, in wanting 
that apparently insignificant part of his body. 
Such men would say, " Here is a striking and 
perfect form — all parts are harmonious — life ani- 
mates the frame — the machine plays admirably — 
what has this little, insignificant member to do 
with it?" And yet this is the essential and cha- 
racterizing part of the man. 



368 



REMAINS. 



Every man has a peculiar turn of mind, which 
gives a colouring and tinge to his thoughts. I 
have particularly detected this in myself with 
respect to public affairs. I have such an imme- 
diate view of God acting in them, that all the 
great men, who make such a noise and bustle on 
the scene, seem to me like so many mere puppets. 
God is moving them all, to effect His own designs. 
They cannot advance a step, whither He does 
not lead; nor stand a moment, where He does 
not place them. Now this is a view of things, 
which it is my privilege to take as a Christian. 
But the evil lies here. I dwell so much on the 
view of the matter, to which the turn of my 
mind leads me, that I forget sometimes the na- 
tural tendencies of things. God uses all things, 
but not so as to destroy their natural tendencies. 
They are good or evil, according to their own 
nature; not according to the use which He makes 
of them. 



The mind has a constant tendency to conform 
itself to the sentiments and cast of thinking with 
which it is chiefly conversant, either among books 
or men. If the influence remain undetected, it 
grows soon into an inveterate habit of obliquity. 
Even if it be detected, it is the most difficult 
thing in the world to bring back the mind to the 



ON JUDGING JUSTLY. 



36*9 



standard, especially if there be anything in its 
constitution which assimilates itself to the error. 
I was once much in the habit of reading the 
mystical writers : a book of Dr. Owen's clearly 
convinced me that they erred : yet I found my 
mind ever inclining toward them, and winding 
round like the biassed bowl. I saw clearly the 
absurdity of the notions in their view of them, 
and yet I was ever talking of " self-annihilation" 
&c. : and am not even now rid of the thing. 



Bb 



ON THE 

CHARACTER OF ST. PAUL. 



1 DELIGHT to contemplate St. Paul as an ap- 
pointed pattern. Men might have questioned the 
propriety of urging on them the example of Christ : 
they might have said that we are necessarily in 
dissimilar circumstances. But St. Paul stands 
up in like case with ourselves — a model of minis- 
terial virtues. 

We consider him, perhaps, in point of charac- 
ter, more the immediate subject of extraordinary 
inspiration, than he was in reality. And this mis- 
take affects our view of him in two different 
ways. 

We suppose, at one time, that his virtues were 
so much the effect of extraordinary communica- 
tions, that he is no proper model for us ; whereas 
he was no farther fitted to his circumstances than 
every Christian has warrant to expect to be, so 
far as his circumstances are similar. 

At another time, perhaps, though we acknow- 
ledge and revere his distinguished character, yet 
our view of his virtues is exalted beyond due 
measure. We should remember, that, as he was 



ON THE CHARACTER OF ST. PAUL. 



371 



fitted for his circumstances ; so he was, in a great 
degree, made by them. Many men are, doubt- 
less, executing their appointed task in retirement 
and silence, who would unfold a character beyond 
all expectation, if Providence were to lead them 
into a scene where the world rose up in arms, and 
they were seat forth into it under a clear convic- 
tion of an especial mission. The history of the 
Church seems to shew us that the effects of grace, 
ordinary or extraordinary, have been the same in 
all ages. 



In speaking of St. Paul, it has been usual to mag- 
nify his learning, among the many other great 
qualities which he possessed. That point seems 
never to have been satisfactorily made out. He 
was an educated Pharisee ; but, farther than this, 
I think we cannot go. His quotations from the 
Greek Poets are not evidences of even a school- 
boy's learning in our day : for we forget, when we 
talk of them, that he was a Roman quoting Greek. 
Nor do I see anything more in his famous speech 
in the Areopagus, so often produced as evidence 
on this subject, than the line of argument to which 
a strong and energetic mind would lead him. If 
we talk of his talents, indeed, he rises almost be- 
yond admiration ; but they were talents of a cer- 
tain order ; and the very display which we have 
of them seems a strong corroborative proof, that 

B b 2 



372 



REMAINS. 



he is not to be considered as a profoundly learned 
man of his day. For instance, had he studied 
Aristotle, it would have been almost impossible 
but he must have caught some influence, which 
we should have seen in his writings. But there is 
nothing like the dry, logical metaphysical cha- 
racter of that school ; which yet had then given 
the law to the seats of science and philosophy. 
Instead of this, we see every where the copious, 
diffusive, declaiming, discursive; but sublime, 
and wise, and effective mind. 



There is a true apostolicism in the character 
of St. Paul. It is a combination of zeal and 

LOVE. 

The Zeal of some men is of a haughty, un- 
bending, ferocious character. They have the 
letter of truth, but they mount the pulpit like 
prize-fighters. It is with them a perpetual scold. 
This spirit is a reproach to the Gospel. It is 
not the spirit of Jesus Christ. He seems to have 
laboured to win men. 

But there is an opposite extreme. The Love 
of some men is all milk and mildness ! There is 
so much delicacy, and so much fastidiousness! 
They touch with such tenderness ! — and, if the 
patient shrinks, they will touch no more ! The 
times are too flagrant for such a disposition. The 
Gospel is sometimes preached in this way, till all 



ON THE CHARACTER OF ST. PAUL. 373 

the people agree with the preacher. He gives no 
offence, and he does no good! 

But St. Paul united and blended love and zeal. 
He must win souls : but he will labour to do this 
by all possible lawful contrivances. 1 am made 
all things to all men, that 1 might by all means 
save some. Zeal, alone, may degenerate into 
ferociousness and brutality : and love, alone, into 
fastidiousness and delicacy : but the Apostle com- 
bined both qualities; and, more perfectly than 
other men, realized the union of the for titer in re 
with the suaviter in modo. 



MISCELLANIES. 



J_ HE Moravians seem to have very nearly hit 
on Christianity. They appear to have found out 
what sort of a thing it is — its quietness — meek- 
ness — patience — spirituality — heavenliness — and 
order. But they want fire. A very superior 
woman among them once said to me — that there 
wanted another body, the character of which 
should be combined from the Moravians and the 
Methodists. The Moravians have failed, in mak- 
ing too little of preaching ; as the Methodists have 
done, in making too much of it. 



The grandest operations, both in nature and in 
grace, are the most silent and imperceptible. The 
shallow Brook babbles in its passage, and is 
heard by every one : but the coming on of the 
Seasons is silent and unseen. The Storm rages 
and alarms; but its fury is soon exhausted, and 
its effects are partial and soon remedied : but the 
Dew, though gentle and unheard, is immense in 



MISCELLANIES. 



375 



quantity, and the very life of large portions of the 
earth. And these are pictures of the operations 
of Grace, in the Church and in the Soul. 



Atheism is a characteristic of our day. On the 
sentiments, manners, pursuits, amusements, and 
dealings of the great body of mankind, there is 
written in broad characters — without God in the 
world ! 



I have often had occasion to observe, that a 
warm blundering man does more for the world 
than a frigid wise man. A man, who gets into 
a habit of enquiring abont proprieties and ex- 
pediencies and occasions, often spends his life 
without doing anything to purpose. The state of 
the world is such, and so much depends on action, 
that every thing seems to say loudly to every man, 
" Do something"—" Do it"—" Do it." 



Providence is a greater mystery than Religion. 
The state of the world is more humiliating to 
our reason, than the doctrines of the Gospel. A 
reflecting Christian sees more to excite his as- 
tonishment and to exercise his faith in the state of 
things between Temple Bar and St. Paul's, than 
in what he reads from Genesis to Revelation. See 



376 



REMAINS. 



the description of the workings of God's Pro- 
vidence, in the account of the Cherubims in the 
1st and 10th Chapters of Ezekiel. 



The scheme and machinery of Redemption may 
be illustrated by the water- works at Marly. We 
consider a part of that complicated machinery, 
and we cannot calculate on the effects ; but we 
see that they are produced. We cannot explain 
to a philosopher the system of Redemption, and 
the mode of conducting and communicating its 
benefits to the human soul ; but we know that it 
yields the water of life — Civilization, to a bar- 
barian—Direction, to a wanderer — Support, to 
those that are ready to perish. 



It is manifest that God designed to promote inter- 
course and commerce among men, by giving to 
each climate its appropriate productions. It is, 
in itself, not only innocent, but laudable. All 
Trade, however, which is founded in Embellish- 
ment, is founded in Depravity. So also is that 
Spirit of Trade, which pushes men on dangerous 
Competitions. Many tradesmen, professedly re- 
ligious, seem to look on their trade as a vast 
engine, which will be worked to no good effect, 
if it be not worked with the whole vigour of the 
soul. This is an intoxicating and ruinous mistake. 



MISCELLANIES. 



377 



So far as they live under the power of religion, 
they will pursue their trade for sustenance and 
provision; but not even that, with unseasonable 
attention and with eagerness : much less will re- 
ligion suffer them to bury themselves in it, when 
its objects are something beyond these: and, least 
of all, will it leave them to deceive themselves 
with certain commercial maxims, so far removed 
from simplicity and integrity, that I have been 
often shocked beyond measure, at hearing them 
countenanced and adopted by some religious 
professors. 



Every man should aim to do one thing well. 
If he dissipates his attention on several objects, 
he may have excellent talents entrusted to him, 
but they will be entrusted to no good end. Con- 
centrated on his proper object, they might have a 
vast energy ; but, dissipated on several, they will 
have none. Let other objects be pursued, indeed; 
but only so far as they may subserve the main pur- 
pose. By neglecting this rule, I have seen Fri- 
volity and Futility written on minds of great 
power; and, by regarding it, I have seen very 
limited minds acting in the first rank of their pro- 
fession — I have seen a large capital and a great 
stock dissipated, and the man reduced to beg- 
gary ; and I have seen a small capital and stock 
improved to great riches. 



378 



REMAINS. 



To effect any purpose, in study, the mind must 
be concentrated. If any other subject plays on 
the fancy, than that which ought to be exclusively 
before it, the mind is divided; and both are neu- 
tralized, so as to lose their effect. Just as when 
I learnt two systems of short-hand. 1 was fa- 
miliar with Gurney's method, and wrote it with 
ease: but, when I took it into my head to learn 
Byrom's, they destroyed each other, and I could 
write neither. 



There should be something obvious, determinate, 
and positive, in a man's reasons for taking a jour- 
ney; especially if he be a Minister. Such events 
and consequences may be connected with it in 
every step, that he ought, in no case, to be more 
simply dependent on the great Appointer of means 
and occasions. Several journies, which I thought 
myself called on to take, I have since had reason 
to think I should not have taken. Negative, and 
even doubtful reasons, may justify him in choosing 
the safer side of staying at home; but there ought 
to be something more in the reasons which put 
him out of his way, to meet the unknown conse- 
quences of a voluntary change of station. Let 
there always be a " Because" to meet the 
" Why?" 



MISCELLANIES. 



379 



I sometimes see, as t sit in my pew at St. John's 
during the Service, an idle fellow saunter into the 
Chapel. He gapes about him for a few minutes ; 
finds nothing to interest and arrest him ; seems 
scarcely to understand what is going forward ; 
and, after a lounge or two, goes out again. I 
look at him, and think, " Thou art a wonderful 
creature ! A perfect miracle ! What a machine 
is that body ! curiously, — fearfully, — wonderfully 
framed ! An intricate — delicate — but harmonious 
and perfect structure! And, then, to ascend to 
thy soul ! — its nature — its capacities ! — its actual 
state 1 — its designation! its eternal condition! — 
I am lost in amazement!"— While he seems to 
have no more consciousness of all this, than the 
brutes w hich perish ! 



Sin, pursued to its tendencies, would pull God 
from his throne. Though I have a deep con- 
viction of its exceeding sinfulness, I live not a 
week without seeing some exhibition of its ma- 
lignity which draws from me—" Well! who could 
have imagined this !" Sin would subjugate heaven, 
earth, and hell to itself. It would make the 
Universe the minion of its lusts, and all Beings 
bow down and worship. 



It is one of the most awful points of view in 
which we can consider God, that, as a righteous 



380 



REMAINS. 



Governor of the world, concerned to vindicate 
his own glory, he has laid himself under a kind 
of holy necessity to purify the unclean, or to sink 
him into perdition. 



It is one of the curses of Error, that the man, 
who is the subject of it, if he has had the op- 
portunity of being better informed, cannot pos- 
sibly do right, so far as he is under it. He has 
brought himself into an utter incapacity of acting 
virtuously : since it is vicious to obey an ill-in- 
formed conscience, if that conscience might have 
been better informed; and certainly vicious to 
disobey conscience, whether it be well or ill- 
informed. 



The approaches of sin are like the conduct of 
Jael. It brings butter in a lordly dish. It bids 
high for the soul. But, when it has fascinated 
and lulled the victim, the nail and the hammer 
are behind. 



I have met with one case in my ministry, very 
frequent and very distressing. A man says to me 
" I approve all you say. I see things to be just 
as you state them. I see a necessity, a propriety, 
a beauty in the religion of Christ. I see it to be 
interesting and important. But I do not feel it. 



MISCELLANIES. 



381 



I cannot feel it. I have no spirit of prayer. My 
• heart belies my head : its affections refuse to follow 
my convictions." If this complaint be ingenuous, 
it is an evidence of grace; and I say " Wait for 
God, and he will appear." But, too often, it is 
not ingenuous: the heart is actually indisposed: 
some tyrant holds it in bondage. The complaint 
is a mockery— because there is no sincerity of en- 
deavour to obtain the object of which it pretends 
to lament the want — there is no sincere desire and 
prayer for the quickening and breathing of God's 
Holy Spirit on the torpid soul. 



The man who labours to please his neighbour for 
his good to edification, has the mind that was in 
Christ. It is a sinner trying to help a sinner. 
How different the face of things if this spirit pre- 
vailed ! — if Dissenters were like Henry, and Watts, 
and Doddridge ; and Churchmen like Leigh ton ! 
The man who comes prominently forward in any 
way may expect to be found fault with : one will 
call him harsh, and another a trimmer. A hard 
man may be reverenced, but men will like him 
best at a distance : he is an iron man : he is not 
like Jesus Christ: Christ might have driven 
Thomas from his presence for his unreasonable 
incredulity — but not so! It is as though he had 
said, " I will come down to thy weakness: if 
thou canst not believe without thrusting thy hand 



382 



REMAINS. 



into my side, then thrust in thy hand." Even a 
feeble, but kind and tender man, will effect more 
than a genius, who is rough or artificial. There 
is danger, doubtless, of humouring others ; and 
against this we must be on our guard. It is a kind 
and accommodating spirit at which we must aim. 
When the two goats met on the bridge which was 
too narrow to allow them either to pass each other 
or to return, the goat which lay down that the 
other might walk over him was a finer gentleman 
than Lord Chesterfield. 

m -i« ass 

To expect disease wherever he goes, and to lay 
himself out in the application of remedies, is that 
habit of mind, which is best suited to a Christian 
while he passes through the world, if he would 
be most effectually useful. 



The Papists and Puritans erred, in opposite 
extremes, in their treatment of mankind. The 
papists, almost to a man, considered the mass 
of men as mere animals, and to be led by the 
senses. Even Fenelon fell into this way of think- 
ing. Some few fine spirits were to be found, which 
were capable of other treatment ; but the herd 
they thought capable of nothing but seeing and 
hearing. The puritans, on the contrary, treated 
man as though he had nothing of the animal about 



MISCELLANIES. 



383 



him. There was among them a total excision of 
all amusement and recreation. Every thing was 
effort. Every thing was severe. I have heard a 
man of this school preach on the distinction be- 
tween Justifying and Saving Faith. He tried to 
make his hearers enter into these niceties: whereas 
Faith, in its bold and leading features, should 
have been presented to them, if any effect was 
expected. The bulk of mankind are capable 
of much more than the Papist allows, but are 
incapable of that which the Puritan supposes. 
They should be treated, in opposition to both, as 
rational and feeling creatures, but upon a bold 
and palpable ground. 



I have seen such sin in the Church, that I have 
been often brought by it to a sickly state of mind. 
But, when I have turned to the world, I have 
seen sin working there in such measures and forms, 
that I have turned back again to the Church with 
more wisdom of mind and more affection to it — 
tainted as it is. I see sin, however, no where put 
on such an odious appearance, as in the Church. 
It mixes itself with the most holy things, and 
debases them, and turns them to its own purposes. 
It builds its nest in the very pinnacles of the tem- 
ple. The history of the primitive ages of the 
Church has also checker! the disgust which would 
arise from seeing the impure state of things before 



384 



REMAINS. 



our eyes. Folly and wickedness sported them- 
selves even then, in almost all possible forms. I 
turn, in such states of mind, to two portraits in 
my study — John Bradford and Abp. Leighton. 
These never fail, in such cases, to speak forcibly 
to my heart, that, in the midst of all there is pure 
religion, and to tell me what that religion is. 



The Joy of Religion is an Exorcist to the mind. 
It expels the demons of carnal mirth and madness. 



The union of Christians to Christ, their common 
head ; and, by means of the influence which they 
derive from Him, one to another ; may be illus- 
trated by the Loadstone. It not only attracts 
the particles of iron to itself, by the magnetic 
virtue; but, by this virtue, it unites the ni one 
among another. 



Some considerable defect is always visible, in the 
greatest men, to a discerning eye. We idolize 
the best characters, because we see them partially. 
Let us acknowledge excellence, and ascribe the 
glory where it is due, while we honour the pos- 
sessor; but let us remember that God has, by 
leaving his greatest servants to the natural opera- 
tion of human frailty in some point or other of their 
character, written on the face of the Christian 



MISCELLANIES. 



385 



Church, Cease ye from man ! He does, by Per- 
fection in Character, as he did by the body of 
Moses — he hides it, that it may not be idolized. 
Our affections, our prejudices, or our ignorance 
cover the creature with a dazzling veil : but he 
lifts it up ; and seems to say, " See the creature 
you admire !" 



A man, who thinks himself to have attained 
Christian Perfection, in the sense in which it has 
been insisted on by some persons, either deceives 
himself, by calling Sin, Infirmity — or Satan leaves 
him undisturbed in false security— or the Demon 
of Pride overcomes the Demon of Lust. 



The trials of the tempted Christian are often sent 
for the use of others, and are made the riches of 
all around him. 



If I were not penetrated with a conviction of the 
truth of the Bible, and the reality of my own expe- 
rience, I should be confounded on all sides — from 
within, and from without — in the world, and in 
the church. 



If a, good man cannot prevent evil, he will hang 
heavy on its wings, and retard its progress. 



386 



REMAINS. 



We are too much disposed to look at the outside 
of things. The face of every affair chiefly affects 
us. Were God to draw aside the veil and to shew 
us but a little of the reality, and the relations of 
the most apparently mysterious and complicated 
dispensations, we should acquiesce with reverence 
and admiration. A Minister, for example, may 
be taken away in the beginning of a promising 
career, or in the midst of great usefulness. If we 
cannot perceive any direct reason for this Provi- 
dence, we stand amazed. But, if we could look 
forward into the farther life of such men, we should 
probably see that they were taken away in mercy 
to themselves — to the church — or to the world. 



I have seen too much of life, to have anything to 
do in the troubled waters of my friends, by way of 
giving advice; unless they will allow me to remain 
in secret. This especially applies to some Chris- 
tians of more sincerity than prudence. An opinion 
given on difficult and controverted cases, in confi- 
dence of its being used only as a private principle 
of action, has been quoted as authority in defence 
of the conduct founded on it. 



Many duties are involved in the very nature of 
religion, concerning which there is perhaps not 
one express precept to be found in the Scriptures. 



MISCELLANIES. 



387 



Private, family, or public devotions are no where 
enjoined ; as to the time, or frequency, or manner 
of performing them. Yet they are so strongly 
implied in the very nature of religion, and they are 
supposed so necessarily to flow from the divine 
principle of spiritual life in the soul, that those 
men greatly err, who think themselves not obliged 
by their religion to the most diligent use of them 
that circumstances will allow. And, surely, we 
may trace here the footsteps of Divine Wisdom. 
If it had been said " Thou shalt do this or that, 
at such and such times," this w ould have brought 
a yoke on the neck of the Christian ; and, even 
when absolutely unavoidable circumstances pre- 
vented him from complying with the injunction, 
would have left sin on his conscience. While the 
way in which the duty is enforced leaves him a 
Christian liberty, that is abundantly guarded 
against all licentiousness. He sees the duty im- 
plied and exemplified in a thousand instances 
throughout the Scripture. The same principle is 
applicable to certain pursuits, which occupy the 
men of the world ; the general unlawfulness of 
which is fully implied, though they neither are 
nor could have been forbidden by name*. 



* See this idea illustrated with regard to Articles of Faith in Jones's 
" Short view of the argument between the Church of England and Dis- 
senters," in the " Scholar Armed." vol. ii. p. 59. J. P. 



Cc2 



388 



REMAINS. 



Nothing seems important to me but so far as it 
is connected with morals. The end — the cui 
bono ? — enters into my view of every thing. Even 
the highest acts of the intellect become criminal 
trifling, when they occupy much of the time of a 
moral creature, and especially of a Minister. If 
the mind cannot feel and treat mathematics and 
music and every thing else as a trifle, it has been 
seduced and enslaved. Brainerd, and Grimshaw, 
and Fletcher were men. Most of us are dwarfs. 



In imitating examples, there are two rules to be 
regarded : We must not stretch ours beyond 
our measure : nor must we despise that in another, 
which is unsuitable to ourselves. 



A piece has been written to prove that the 
Gospel is preached to Sinners, only in the lowest 
state of misery and imbecillity. Some men get 
hold of an opinion, and push it so far that it meets 
and contradicts other opinions, fairly deducible 
from Scripture. And it is no uncommon thing 
with them to suppose, that nobody else holds the 
same opinion : when, if they would look into the 
minds of other men, they would find themselves 
deceived. We preach the Gospel to sinners in 
the lowest condition ; and the only reason I do 
not preach it to Devils, is, that I find no Gospel 



MISCELLANIES. 



389 



provided for Devils. As to the Roman Catholic 
notion of a grace of congruity, in their sense of it 
I utterly disclaim it. Some of the best of them 
taught that God prepared the heart for himself 
in various unseen ways. And who can deny this? 
but this is far different from the notion, that some 
minds have a natural congruity or suitableness to 
the Gospel. The fallow-ground of the heart may 
be broken up, ploughed, and prepared by unseen 
and most circuitous means. 1 have gone from 
hearing a man preach incomparable nonsense who 
knew spiritual religion, to hearing a man of a car- 
nal mind and habits who knew nothing of spiritual 
religion preach incomparable sense, and I thought 
the carnal preacher much most likely to call men 
to some feeling of religion. 



The Imagination is the grand organ, whereby 
Truth can make successful approaches to the 
mind. Some preachers deal much with the pas- 
sions : they attack the hopes and fears of men. 
But this is a very different thing from the right 
use of the Imagination, as the medium of impress- 
ing Truth. Jesus Christ has left perfect patterns 
of this way of managing men. But it is a distinct 
talent, and a talent committed to very few. It is 
an easy thing to move the passions : a rude, blunt, 
illiterate attack may do this. But, to form one 
new figure for the conveyance of Truth to the 



390 



REMAINS. 



mind, is a difficult thing. The world is under no 
small obligation to the man who forms such a 
figure. The French strain this point so far, that 
the effort is continually seen. To be effective — 
there must be about it a naiveth — an ease— a self- 
evidence. The figures of the French writers va- 
nish from the mind, like the flourish of a musical 
band. The figures of Jesus Christ sink into the 
mind, and leave there the indelible impress of the 
Truth which they convey. 



The religious w r orld has a great momentum. 
Money and power, in almost any quantity, are 
brought forth into action, when any fair object is 
set before it. It is a pendulum, that swings with 
prodigious force. But it wants a regulator. If 
there is no regulating force on it, of sufficient 
power, its motions w ill be so violent and eccentric, 
that it will tear the machine to pieces. And, 
therefore, when I have any influence in its designs 
and schemes, I cannot help watching them with 
extreme jealousy, to throw in every directing and 
regulating power which can be obtained from any 
quarter. 



Nothing can be proposed so wild or so absurd, 
as not to find a party— and often a very large 
party — ready to espouse it. It is a sad reflection 



MISCELLANIES. 391 

on human nature, but it is too true. Every day's 
experience and history confirm it. It would have 
argued gross ignorance of mankind to expect 
even Swedenborgianism to be rejected at once by 
the common sense of men. He, who laid the 
snare, knew that if a few characters of some learn- 
ing and respectability could be brought to espouse 
it, there would be soon a silly multitude ready to 
follow. 



The religious world has many features, which 
are distressing to a holy man. He sees in it much 
proposal and ostentation, covering much surface. 
But Christianity is deep and substantial. A man 
is soon enlisted ; but he is not soon made a Soldier. 
He is easily put into the ranks, to make a show 
there ; but he is not so easily brought to do the 
duties of the ranks. We are too much like an 
army of Asiatics ; they count well, and cut a 
good figure; but, when they come into action, 
one has no flint, another has no cartridge — the 
arms of one are rusty, and another has not learnt 
to handle them. This was not the complaint 
equally at all times. It belongs too peculiarly to 
the present day. The fault lies in the muster. We 
are like Falstafif. He took the King's money to 
press good men and true, but got together such 
ragamuffins that he was ashamed to muster them. 
What is the consequence? People groan under 



392 



REMAINS. 



their connections. Respectable persons tell me 
such stories of their servants, who profess religion, 
as to shame and distress me. High pretensions 
to spirituality ! Warm zeal for certain sentiments ! 
Priding themselves in Mr. Such-a-one's ministry ! 
But what becomes of their duties ? — Oh these are 
" beggarly elements" indeed ! Such persons are 
alive to religious talk: but if you speak to 
them on religious tempers, the subject grows 
irksome. 



Admiration and Feeling are very distinct from 
each other. Some music and oratory enchant 
and astonish, but they speak not to the heart. I 
have been overwhelmed by Handel's music : the 
Dettingen Te Deum is, perhaps, the greatest com- 
position in the world : yet I never, in my life, 
heard Handel, but I could think of something 
else at the same time. There is a kind of music 
that will not allow this. Dr. Worgan has so 
touched the organ at St. John's, that I have been 
turning backward and forward over the Prayer 
Book for the First Lesson in Isaiah, and wondered 
that I could not find Isaiah there ! The musician 
and the orator fall short of the full power of their 
science, if the hearer is left in possession of 
himself. 



MISCELLANIES. 



393 



The Church of England is not fitted, in its pre- 
sent state, for a General Church. Its secularity 
must be purged away. We shall hasten that day 
when Christians shall be of one heart and one 
mind, if we inculcate the spirit of charity on our 
respective circles. I have aimed much at this 
point, and shall push it farther. The rest must be 
left to Providence. He only can, by unknown 
means, heal the schisms of the Church, and unite 
it together as one external body : and that this 
will be done, as some think, by persecution, ap- 
pears highly probable. I see no other means 
adequate to the end. 



Hypocrisy is folly. It is much easier, safer, and 
pleasanter to be the thing which a man aims to 
appear, than to keep up the appearance of being 
what he is not. When a Christian is truly such, 
he acts from a nature — a new nature — and all the 
actings of that nature have the ease and pleasant- 
ness of nature in them. 



Humiliation is the spirit of our dispensation — 
not a creeping, servile, canting humility : but an 
entire self-renunciation. The Mystics often talk 
admirably on this subject. Pride is the most uni- 
versal and inveterate of all vices. Every man is a 
proud man, though all are not equally proud. No 
sin harasses the Christian so much, nor accom- 



394 REMAINS. 

panies him so unweariedly. Its forms of exhibiting 
itself are infinitely varied, and none are more com- 
mon than the affectation of humility. The as- 
sumption of the garb of humility, in all its shades, 
is generally but an expression of a proud mind. 
Pride is the master-sin of the spirit; and the 
grace of God, in the whole tenour of our dispen- 
sation, is directed against it. 



I extend the circle of real religion very widely. 
Many men fear God, and love God, and "have a 
sincere desire to serve Him, whose views of reli- 
gious truth are very imperfect, and in some points 
perhaps utterly false. But I doubt not that many 
Such persons have a state of heart acceptable 
before God. 



Man is a creature of extremes. The middle 
path is generally the wise path ; but there are few 
wise enough to find it. Because Papists have 
made too much of some things, Protestants have 
made too little of them. The Papists treat man 
as all sense: and, therefore, some Protestants 
would treat him as all spirit. Because one party 
has exalted the Virgin Mary to a divinity, the 
other can scarcely think of that most highly fa- 
voured among tvomen with common respect. The 
Papist puts the Apocrypha into his canon— the 



MISCELLANIES. 395 

Protestant will scarcely regard it as an ancient 
record. The Popish heresy of human merit in 
Justification, drove Luther on the other side into 
most unwarrantable and unscriptural statements 
of that doctrine. The Papists consider Grace as 
inseparable from the participation of the Sacra- 
ments —the Protestants too often lose sight of them 
as instituted Means of conveying Grace. 



The language of Irreligion in the heart, is, " Give 
— give — now — now — whatever the flesh and the 
eye lust after, and whatever gratifies the pride of 
life. Give it now — for, as to any Reversion, I 
will not sacrifice a single lust for it ; or, if I must 
have a religion, it shall be anything rather than 
that demeaning system, which makes every thing 
a mere boon." 



Instead of attempting any logical and metaphy- 
sical explanation of justification by the imputed 
righteousness of Christ, all which attempts have 
human infirmity stamped upon them, I would 
look at the subject in the great and impressive 
light in which Scripture places it before me. It 
teaches me to regard the intervention of Christ 
for me, as the sole ground of all expectation to- 
ward God. In consideration of his sufferings, my 
guilt is remitted, and I am restored to that which 



396 



REMAINS. 



I had lost by sin. Let us add to this, that the 
sufferings of Christ were in our stead, and we shall 
see the point of view in which Scripture sets him 
forth as the deserver and procurer to us of all 
pardon and grace. The thing is declared — not 
explained. Let us not therefore darken a subject 
which is held forth in a prominent light, by our 
idle endeavours to make it better understood. 



Regeneration and conversion may be distin- 
guished from each other, though they cannot be 
separated. They may be distinguished ; as a man's 
being disposed to go in a certain road, and his 
actually going in that road, may be distinguished : 
for Regeneration is God's disposing the heart to 
himself ; but Conversion is the actual turning of 
the heart to God. 



There is an immeasurable distance between the 
genuine and the spurious Christian. -The Genuine 
Christian may be weak, wild, eccentric, fanatical, 
faulty ; but he is right-hearted : you find the root 
of the matter in him. The Spurious Christian is 
the most dangerous of men, and one of the most 
difficult to deal with. You see what he is, but 
you find it almost impossible to keep clear of him. 
He will seek your acquaintance, in order to au- 
thenticate his own character — to indorse his own 



MISCELLANIES. 



397 



reputation. But avoid him. His errors and vices 
will be assigned to the Church, by an ^discri- 
minating' world. There is I?ss danger in associ- 
ating with worldly people by profession, and more 
tenderness to be exercised toward them. St. Paul 
teaches us the distinction, 1 Cor. v. 9 — 11. 



I feel disposed to treat carnal men and carnal 
ministers with tenderness, not to shew them that 
I am a spiritually proud man. Let them see that 
you have some secret in possession, which keeps 
you quiet, humble, patient, holy, meek, and af- 
fectionate, in a turbulent and passionate world. 



The character of Balaam is not uncommon in the 
Church. I have been amazed to see religious pro- 
fessors, whose ungodly character has been known 
and read of all men, who have nevertheless enter- 
tained a good opinion of themselves. I have ac- 
counted for it, by supposing that they build en- 
tirely on the distinction of their views of truth 
from those of other men. They " know the points : 
they see the distinctions : and, moreover, they 
approve what they know and desire to die the 
death of the righteous and be where they are — 
and, certainly, they must be the men of God's 
council, and the men who stand on His side 
against the world V 



398 



REMAINS. 



I have long adopted an expedient, which I have 
found of singular service. I have a shelf in my 
study, for tried authors ; and one in my mind, for 
tried principles and characters. 

When an author has stood a thorough exami- 
nation, and will bear to be taken as a guide, I put 
him on the shelf! 

When I have more fully made up my mind on 
a principle, I put it on the shelf! A hundred 
subtle objections may be brought against this 
principle : 1 may meet with some of them, per- 
haps : but my principle is on the shelf! Generally, 
I may be able to recal the reasons which weighed 
with me to put it there ; but, if not, I am not to 
be sent out to sea again. Time was, when I saw 
through and detected all the subtleties that could 
be brought against it. I have past evidence of 
having been fully convinced : and there on the 
shelf it shall lie ! 

When I have turned a character over and 
over on all sides, aud seen it through and through 
in all situations, I put it on the shelf. There may 
be conduct in the person, which may stumble 
others ; there may be great inconsistencies : there 
may be strange and unaccountable turns — but I 
have put that character on the shelf : difficulties 
will all be cleared up: every thing will come 
round again. I should be much chagrined, in- 
deed, to be obliged to take a character down, 
which I had once put up : but that has never been 



MISCELLANIES. 



399 



the case with me yet; and the best guard 
against it, is— not to be too hasty in putting them 
there. 



Influence, whether derived from money, talents, 
or connections, is Power : there is no person so 
insignificant, but he has much of this power : the 
little Israelite maid, in Naaman's family, is an in- 
stance: some, indeed, suppose that they have 
more power than they really have; but we gener- 
ally think we have less than we in reality have. 
Whoever neglects or misapplies this power, is an 
unprofitable servant : unbelief, timidity, and deli- 
cacy often cramp its exertion ; but it is our duty 
to call ourselves out to the exertion of this power, 
as Mordecai called out Esther (ch. iv.) : it is our 
duty to watch against every thing that might hinder 
or pervert our influence ; for mere regard to re- 
putation will often carry many into error : who 
would not follow Aaron in worshipping the Golden 
Calf? Even men of feeble public talents may ac- 
quire much influence by kindness and consistency 
of character: Ministers are defective in resting 
their personal influence too much on their public 
ministry: time will give weight to a man's cha- 
racter; and it is one advantage to a man to be cast 
early into his situation, that he may earn a 
character. 



400 



REMAINS. 



The instances of artifice which occur in Scrip- 
ture are not to be imitated, but avoided: if Abra- 
ham, or Isaac, or Jacob equivocate in order to 
obtain their ends, this is no warrant to me to do 
so: David's falsehood concerning Goliath's sword 
argued distrust of God. If any part of the truth 
which I am bound to communicate be concealed, 
this is sinful artifice : the Jesuits in China, in order 
to remove the offence of the Cross, declared that 
it was a falsehood invented by the Jews that 
Christ was crucified ; but they were expelled from 
the empire: and this was designed, perhaps, to 
be held up as a warning to all Missionaries, that 
no good end is to be carried by artifice. 

But address is of a different nature. There is 
no falsehood, deception, or equivocation in Ad- 
dress. St. Paul, for instance, employed lawful 
Address, and not Artifice, when he set the Sad- 
ducees and Pharisees at variance : he employed a 
lawful argument to interest the Pharisees in his 
favour: this was great address, but it had nothing 
of criminal artifice. In Joshua's ambushes for the 
men of Ai there was nothing sinful: it was a 
lawful stratagem of war: it would have been un- 
lawful to tell the men of Ai there was no ambush; 
but they knew that they came out of their city 
liable to such ambushes. Christ's conduct at 
Emmaus, and that of the Angels at Sodom, were 
meant as trials of the regard of those with whom 
they were conversing. 



MISCELLANIES. 



401 



Precipitation is acting without sufficient ground s 
of action. Youth is the peculiar season of Pre- 
cipitation: the young man's motto is " Onward!" 
There is no such effectual cure of this evil, as ex- 
perience ; when a man is made to feel the effects 
of his precipitation, both in body and mind: and 
God alone can thus bring a man acquainted with 
himself. There is a self-blindness in precipitation : 
a precipitate man is, at the time, a blind man : 
That be far from thee ! said St. Peter : this shall 
not happen to thee: As the Lord liveth, saith 
David, the man that hath done this thing shall 
surely die ! 

There is great criminality in precipitation. A 
man under its influence is continually tempted to 
take God's work out of his hands. It is not a 
state of dependence. It betrays want of patience 
with respect to God; and want of faith: I shall 
one day perish by the hand of Said. It discovers 
a want of charity : in a rash moment we may do an 
injury to our neighbour, which we can never repair. 

There are few, who do not feel that they are 
suffering through life the effects of their own pre- 
cipitation. He, then, that trusteth his own heart, 
is a fool. In precipitate moments Ave should learn 
to say, " I am hot now the man to give an opinion, 
or to take a single step !" 



Method, as Mrs. More says, is the very hinge 
of business; and there is no method without 
t Dd 



402 



REMAINS. 



punctuality. Punctuality is important, be- 
cause it subserves the peace and good-temper of 
a family: the want of it not only infringes on 
necessary duty, but sometimes excludes this duty. 
Punctuality is important as it gains time: it is 
like packing things in a box : a good packer will 
get in half as much more as a bad one. The 
calmness of mind which it produces, is another 
advantage of punctuality : a disorderly man is 
always in a hurry : he has no time to speak with 
you, because he is going elsewhere ; and, when 
he gets there, he is too late for his business, or 
he must hurry away to another before he carl finish 
it. It was a wise maxim of the Duke of New- 
castle — " I do one thing at a time." Punctuality 
gives weight to character. " Such a man has 
made an appointment : then I know he will keep 
it." And this generates punctuality in you : for, 
like other virtues, it propagates itself: servants 
and children must be punctual, where their leader 
is so. Appointments, indeed, become debts : 
I owe you punctuality, if I have made an appoint- 
ment with you ; and have no right to throw away 
your time if I do my own. 



It is a difficult question in Casuistry — How far 

A MAN IS BOUND TO BETRAY CONFIDENCE FOR 

general good. Let it be considered what con- 
sequences would follow from a man s disclosing 



MISCELLANIES. 



403 



all the evil he knows. The world would become 
a nest of scorpions. He must often mistake, and 
of course calumniate. Such is his incapacity to 
determine what is really evil in his neighbour, and 
such are the mischiefs frequently arising from the 
disclosure of even what should be in truth evil, 
that he seems rather called on to be silent, till 
circumstances render it a case of duty to remain 
silent no longer. But, if this be his general 
rule, it will be his duty to observe silence much 
oftener in cases of confidence. Professional 
Men — a Minister — a Lawyer — a Medical Man — 
have an official secrecy imposed on them. If this 
were not the case — a distrest conscience could 
never unburthen itself to its Confessor. Incalcu- 
lable injuries to health and property must be sus- 
tained, for want of proper advisers. This applies 
in a very high sense to a Minister, considered as 
a Confessor — a director of the conscience. An 
alarmed conscience will unfold its most interior 
recesses before him. It is said Dr. Owen advised 
a man, who, under religious convictions confessed 
to him a murder which he had perpetrated some 
years before, to surrender himself up to justice. 
The man did so, and was executed. I think 
Dr. Owen erred in his advice. I thought myself 
right, in urging on persons, who have opened their 
hearts to me, deep humiliation before God for 
crimes committed in an unconverted state ; but, 
as it had pleased Him to give a thorough hatred 

D d 2 



404 



REMAINS. 



of those crimes to the mind, and a consequent 
self-loathing and humiliation, aod yet to allow in 
His providence that they should have remained 
undiscovered, I judged that the matter might be 
safely left with Him. Yet there may be cases, 
in which general consequences require that con- 
fidence should be betrayed. Such cases usually 
relate to evil in progress. To prevent or coun- 
teract such evil, it may be necessary to disclose 
what has been intrusted in confidence. Yet the 
party should be honestly warned, if its purposes 
are not changed what duty your conscience will 
require. 



I have felt twice in my life very extraordinary 
impressions under sermons, and that from men 
least calculated to affect me. A man of great 
powers, but so dissipated on every thing that he 
knew nothing — a frivolous, futile babbler, whom 
I was ready almost to despise — surprized and 
chained me so, in my own church at Lewes, that 
I was thunder-struck : I think it was concerning 
the dove not finding rest for the sole of her foot : 
he felt the subject strongly himself; and, in spite 
of all my prejudices against him and my real 
knowledge of his character, he made me feel it as 
I have scarcely ever done before or since. In 
the other instance, I had to do with a very dif- 
ferent character: he was a simple, but weak man: 



MISCELLANIES. 



405 



it pleased God, however, to shoot an arrow by 
his hand into my heart: I had been some time in 
a dry, fruitless frame, and was persuading myself 
that all was going on well : he said one day, at 
Lewes, with an indescribable simplicity, that 
" Men might chear themselves in the morning, 
and they might pass on tolerably well perhaps 
without God at noon; but the cool of the day was 
coming, when God would come down to talk with 
them." It was a message from God to me: I felt 
as though God had descended into the Church, 
and was about to call me to my account ! In the 
former instance, I was more surprized and as- 
tonished than affected religiously ; but, in this, I 
was unspeakably moved. 



Constitutional bias is a suspicious Interpreter 
of providential leadings. A man's besetting 
sin lies in that to which his nature is most in- 
clined; and, therefore, to walk wisely and holily, 
he should be very jealous of such supposed lead- 
ings in Providence as draw with his constitutional 
propensity. He is never safe, unless he is in the 
act of collaring his nature as a rebel, and forcing 
it into submission. A sanguine man sees a sign 
and token in every thing : in every ordinary oc- 
currence, his imagination hears a call: his pious 
fancy is the source and food of an eager, dis- 
quieted, and restless habit of mind. An enter- 



406 



REMAINS. 



prising man has great facility in finding God in 
whatever seems to open to honour, or influence, 
or power. But he has lost the right estimate of 
things: if God seem to draw with an enterprising 
mind, the man should stand and tremble. Pro- 
vidence may really lead some retired and humble 
men into situations which the ambitious man would 
covet; but, even in that case, it is not to be re- 
garded as an evidence of favour, so much as an 
increase of trial and responsibility : but He can 
never open before an enterprising and ambitious 
character, unless in judgment, or in such immi- 
nence of trial as should call the man to self-sus- 
picion and humility. A pleasurable man easily 
discerns Gods hand in every thing, which seems 
to put his favourite indulgences within his power: 
such a thing was a great Providence ! and he is 
vastly grateful! while he sees not that he is led. 
away to broken cisterns. An idle man has a con- 
stant tendency to torpidity. He has adopted the 
Indian maxim — that it is better to walk than 
to run, and better to stand than to walk, and 
better to sit than to stand, and better to lie than 
to sit. He hugs himself in the notion, that God 
calls him to be quiet !— that he is not made for 
bustling and noise ! — that such and such a thing 
plainly shew him he ought to retire and sit still! 
A busy man is never at rest: he sees himself called 
so often into action, that he digs too much to 
suffer anything to grow, and waters so pro- 



MISCELLANIES. 



407 



fusely that he drowns. The danger in all these 
cases is, lest a man should bless himself in his 
snares! 



Adam well observes : — "A poor country parson, 
fighting against the Devil in his parish, has nobler 
ideas than Alexander had." Men of the world 
know nothing of true glory : they know nothing 
of the grandeur of that sentiment — Thou, O God, 
art the thing that I long for! You may, perhaps, 
find this sentiment in the corner of some monas- 
tery, where a poor, ignorant creature is mumbling 
over his prayers : or, it may even be found to exist 
with the nonsense and fanaticism of a Sweden- 
borgian: but, wherever it is, it is true dignity. 

Look at the bravery of the world ! Go into the 
Park. Who is the object of admiration there ? — 
The captain, swelling and strutting at the head 
of his corps ! And what is there at the Court ? — 
" Make way! — Make way!" And who is this? 
A bit of clay, with a ribbon tied round it ! Now 
it makes nothing against the comparative empti- 
ness and littleness of these things, that I or any 
man should be ensnared by them, and play the 
fool with the rest of the species. Truth is truth, 
and dignity is dignity, in spite of the errors and 
folly of any man living. 

But this is the outside. What are the greatest 
minds, and the noblest projects of the world, 



408 



REMAINS. 



compared with a Christian ! Take Mr. Pitt for an 
instance : and contrast him with the most insigni- 
ficant old woman in the Church of Christ ! If the 
Bible be not true, you have no standard : all your 
reasonings, and science, and philosophy, and me- 
taphysics, are gross absurdity and folly. But, if 
the Bible be true, Mr. Pitt, great and noble as he 
is, yet, considered as a mere politician, even 
Mr. Pitt has a little, contracted, mean mind! — a 
driveller !— an earth-worm ! Compared with his 
projects and schemes, the old woman, who rises 
at Two o'Clock in the morning, lights her farthing- 
candle, stands all day over her wash-tub, at night 
puts on her red cloak, steals out to some place of 
worship, hears the truths of the Gospel mangled 
perhaps with ignorant yet honest zeal, but draws 
in good into an honest and prepared heart— why, 
this woman is a heroine — a noble mind— compared 
with the greatest of men, considered as a mere 
man of this world! 

Bishop Wilkins had said admirably, That no- 
thing in man is great, but so far as it is connected 
with God. The only wise thing recorded of Xerxes, 
is his reflection on the sight of his army — That 
not one of that immense multitude would survive 
a hundred years : it seems to have been a momen- 
tary gleam of true light and feeling. 



APPENDIX 

CONTAINING 

REMARKS BY MR. CECIL, 

COMMUNICATED TO 

THE EDITOR BY SOME FRIENDS. 



APPENDIX. 



A HIDING-PLACE implies secrecy. He, who 
can say unto God, Thou art my hiding-place, may 
go abroad about his affairs, and may pass through 
a thousand dangers, and yet, at the same time, 
have such a hiding-place, in the favour and pro- 
tection of God, that, when he seems to be exposed 
on every side, still he is secured and hidden from 
every evil. 



A great man, however high his office and talents, 
is dependent on little things. Jonah was exceed- 
ing glad of his gourd. However splendid and 
towering, man is crushed beneath the moth, if God 
does not uphold him : so that, while we are ad- 
miring the great man as he is called, and however 
he may be disposed to admire himself and to 
speak great swelling words of vanity, facts will 
shew that he is a poor dependent creature, who 
cannot live a moment without God. If the Holy 
Spirit opens his eyes, he will perceive that he 



412 



REMAINS. 



cannot stand alone; but can only support himself 
and climb, like the ivy, by clasping one stronger 
than himself. 



Dreams are common to sleeping. No man be- 
gins to slumber in religion, but he falls into some 
golden dream. It is a device of Satan to seduce 
men into a drowsy state, and then to beguile them 
with some dream. When the duties of religion 
become irksome, then he presents some novelty 
which allures and deceives us : whereas, had we 
been in life and vigour, we should have detected 
the deceit. 



There are no greater objects of pity in the world, 
than men who are admired by all around for their 
nice discernment and fine taste in every thing of a 
worldly nature, but have no taste for the riches 
that endure for ever — no love for God or his word 
— no love for Christ or their souls. In such a 
state, however admired or respected, they cannot 
see the kingdom of God. 



A spiritual man is a character that rises far 
above all worldly wisdom and science. He is 
described by our Lord as born of the Spirit. 
Spiritual senses are given to him. He has a 



APPENDIX. 



413 



spiritual taste, that rejects whatever is injurious, 
and gladly receives whatever is salutary to the 
spiritual life: he desires the sincere milk of the 
word, that he may grow thereby. He has a spiri- 
tual sight : he looks, not at the things which are 
seen, but at the things ivhich are not seen. He 
smells a sweet savour in the things of God : His 
name is as ointment poured forth. He has a quick 
feeling. And he has a spiritual ear : My sheep 
hear my voice. He lives in a world of his own ; 
he is tried by spiritual conflicts, and supported by 
spiritual comforts. If the things of God do not 
afford him consolation he droops, and nothing 
in this world can lift up his head : he will say to 
every other object, Miserable comforters are ye all! 
He is pursuing a spiritual end, and, while others 
boast and are puffed up with their great attain- 
ments, he is humbled in the dust and gives all 
glory to God. 



There are critical circumstances, under which a 
man who is in general on his guard, is called to 
redouble his Christian vigilance. If he is about to 
encounter imminent danger, for instance, he will 
take care to secure himself by every possible 
means. A house may be well guarded and se- 
cured ; but, if there is any fear and expectation of 
thieves, every place will be doubly barred and 
watched. Good care may be taken, in the general 



414 



REMAINS. 



habits of a family, to guard against fire ; but, if it 
be known that a spark has fallen among any com- 
bustibles, every possible search is made to dis- 
cover it and to prevent its ravages. Thus should 
every servant of Christ redouble his guard in 
critical circumstances. He should remember, 
that while awful providences seem to be threaten- 
ing us, and while we are surrounded with dangers 
on every side, and while the enemy of our souls 
is going about as a roaring lion seeking whom he 
may devour, it ill becomes us to trifle. Let us 
stir up ourselves, and attend to our Master's ad- 
monition, Let your loins be girded about, and your 
lights burning, and ye yourselves like unto men that 
wait for their Lord, 



If St. Paul had not been an entire character, he 
would not have spoken so ingenuously of himself 
as he does in the viith to the Romans. He would 
have acted as many others have done : he would 
have put the best aspect on things. He would 
not have opened the chambers of imagery ; and 
have showed, while all the Church was admiring 
him, what was passing within. Here were real 
simplicity and humility— nothing of that Pharisee 
which he once was. The Pharisee is become a 
Publican : the reality is coming forward : and he 
seems to say, " Is any man groaning under a 
body of sin and death ?— on searching his heart, 



APPENDIX. 



415 



does he find that therein divelleth no good thing ? 
— This is my case also : and if I have anything 
wherein to glory, it is in Christ and not in my- 
self." 



Charity should teach us to exercise hope and 
love toward all men — hope toward those who are 
without, and love toward those who are within, 
the walls of the City of God. Of those without, 
we are apt to despair too soon, and to say There 
is no hope ; when we should labour to allure them 
into the Church of God, and to impress them with 
a sense of its glory and its privileges. Toward 
those within the walls, we sometimes fail in the 
exercise of love : we are too much influenced in 
our feelings toward them, by a difference of edu- 
cation, taste, or disposition ; while the great 
question ought to be " Are they really fellow-citi- 
zens with the saints, and of the household of God f 
— and if so, whatever their defects may be, we 
ought to honour and love them as the Temples of 
the Holy Ghost. 



When Christians are delivered from trouble, they 
are apt soon to forget it ; and to lose sight of the 
holy resol unions formed while under affliction : 
the strong impressions soon decay. Whereas if 
we were enabled to glory in tribulation — if our 



416 



REMAINS. 



conscience were made tender — if more reality 
were put into our prayers — we should take heed 
how we give way to an evil heart of unbelief : we 
should remember, too, how our troubles were 
brought on us, and the benefits which we received 
while they continued ! we should watch that we 
might not estimate them falsely ; and, at all times, 
we should bear it in our mind, that it is not suf- 
fering which hurts us, but sin. 



Some men will follow Christ on certain conditions 
— if he will not lead them through rough roads — 
if he will not enjoin them any painful tasks — if the 
sun and wind do not annoy them —if he will remit 
a part of his plan and order. But the true Chris- 
tian, who has the Spirit of Jesus, will say, as Ruth 
said to Naomi, " Whither thou goest, I m il go /" 
whatever difficulties and dangers may be in the 
way. 



It is our happiness, as Christians, that, however 
we may change our place, we shall never change 
our object. Whatever we lose, we shall not lose 
that which we esteem better than life. God has 
made to us this gracious promise — / will dwell in 
them, and walk in them. And though we may 
endure much affliction, and pass through many 
deep waters, yet this is our honour and comfort 



APPENDIX. 



417 



the lord is with us ! and then — what is diffi- 
culty ?— what is tribulation? — what is death? — 
Death to a Christian is but an entrance into the 
city of God ! it is but joining a more blessed com- 
pany, and singing in a more exalted strain, than 
he can do in this world. 



The way of every man is declarative of the end 
of that man. 



How difficult is it to shew those who are in the 
House of Mourning, that God is teaching them, 
that, if they had not leaned so much on their crea- 
ture-supports, they had not been so broken ! Still 
they are crying, O Absalom, my son, my son! Why 
is it that we are shocked to see the world falling 
to pieces around us, when we shall leave it our- 
selves to-morrow — perhaps to-day? We forget 
that it is the design of God to dash every thing to 
pieces. It is by these trials that we begin to learn 
we have been walking by sense rather than by- 
faith— and looking at our children and our posses- 
sions as though we were never to lose them, 



It is by faith that we are relieved under the dif- 
ficulties of sense. Sense revolts, when it views 
our great High Priest on the Cross— -Faith glories 

t Ee 



418 



REMAINS. 



in this object! Sense talks like the Jews: He 
saved others : himself he cannot save : if he be note 
the King of Israel, let him come down from the 
cross, andtve will believe him. — Faith lays hold on 
him as the Saviour of the World, and cries Lord! 
remember me when thou contest into thy kingdom ! 
Sense envies the prosperous worldling, and calls 
him happy — Faith goes into the sanctuary, to see 
what his end will be. When the waves run high, 
Sense clamours — Faith says " Speak but the word, 
and the winds and waves shall obey thee." When 
we feel our earthly house of this tabernacle taking 
down, Sense sinks — but Faith says We laww, 
that, if our earthly house of this tabernacle be dis- 
solved, tve have a building of God, a house not made 
with hands, eternal in the heavens. 



Wisdom prepares for the worst : but Folly leaves 
the worst for that day when it comes. 



Abraham teaches us the right way of conversing 
with God : — And Abraham fell on his face, and 
God talked with him ! When we plead with Him 
our faces should be in the dust : we shall not then 
speak lightly of him, nor complain ; nor will there 
be any more boasting. We shall abase ourselves 
and exalt God ! 

The Christian's secret intercourse with God will 



APPENDIX. 



419 



make itself manifest to the world. We may not 
see the husbandman cast the seed into the ground, 
yet when the corn grows and ripens we know that 
it was sown. The mere professor, who may be 
found every where but in his secret chamber, may 
think that with care he shall pass for a good 
Christian: but he mistakes, for the spirit will 
discover itself, of what sort it is. He, who would 
walk safely and honourably, must walk closely 
with God in secret. 

t 

A variety of circumstances render the sinner's 
first approaches to Christ difficult. They, who 
find an easy access, will find an easy departure 
when troubles arise. 



The most likely method we can take to hasten 
the removal of what we love, is, to value it too 
much— to think on it with endless anxiety — to 
live on its favour with solicitude. It shall soon 
either become a thorn in our side, or be taken 
away. 



Be ye not unequally yoked. If a believer marries 
an unbeliever, the miseries which ensue are end- 
less. Were they determined, in kindness, to grant 
all they could to each other ; yet they live as in 

Ee 2 



420 



REMAINS. 



two separate worlds. There is a great gulph be- 
tween them, which cannot be passed without the 
grace of God ; on which, while all should hope 
and pray for it, none should presume. They can- 
not taste the same pleasures, nor share the same 
sorrows, nor pursue the same objects, nor walk in 
the same path. What hope, then, can there be of 
comfort? Every Christian finds the corruptions 
of his own heart, the snares of the world, and the 
devices of Satan, together with innumerable secret 
anxieties, quite enough to struggle with in his 
journey to heaven, without adding another to his 
difficulties. 



In studying the word of God, digest it under these 
two heads: either as removing obstructions, which 
keep God and thee asunder; or as supplying some 
uniting power to bring God and thee together. 

Perhaps it is a greater energy of Divine Power, 
which keeps the Christian from day to day, from 
year to year — graying, hoping, running, believing — 
against all hindrances — which maintains him as a 
Living martyr: than that which bears him up 
for an hour in sacrificing himself at the stake. 



By the course of his Providence, God will assert 
the liberty of his council. 



APPENDIX. 



421 



Let me ask, every day, what reference it has to 
the Day of Judgment ; and cultivate a disposition 
to be reminded of that day. 

Indulge not a gloomy contempt of anything which 
is in itself good ; only let it keep its place. 



God has called us to meet his best gift to man— 
his only-begotten Son — not in a splendid court, 
but in a manger ! — in the wilderness ! — in Geth- 
semane ! — before the High Priest, when they spat 
in his face, and buffeted him, and smote him! — 
at the cross!— and at the sepulchre! Thus it is 
that he corrects the pride and ambition of the 
human heart ! 

There is in sin, not only an infinite mischief done 
to the man, but it is accompanied by an infatu- 
ation that surpasses all description. When the 
heart declines from God, and loses communion 
with Christ, the man resembles one in a consump- 
tion, who is on the brink of the grave and yet 
talks of a speedy recovery ! A death will come 
on the spirit, which will be perceived and felt by 
all around : yet, when the most affectionate friends 
of such a man attempt to expostulate, they often 
find him not only insensible but obstinate and 



422 



REMAINS. 



stout-hearted. He who, like Sampson, the cham- 
pion of Israel, lays his head in the lap of tempta- 
tion, will rarely rise again as he lay down : he may 
say, I tvill go out, as at other times before, and 
shake myself: but he wists not that the Lord is de- 
parted from him! — Strangers have devoured his 
strength, and he knetveth it not! 



The whole life of Christ was one continued ex- 
pression of the same desire : — " Let me lay aside 
my glory — let me expire on the cross — so that thy 
kingdom may come!" And the blood of every 
martyr, who ever suffered in the cause of God, 
cried " Let thy Kingdom come !" 



Growth in grace manifests itself by a simplicity 
— that is, a greater naturalness of character. 
There will be more usefulness, and less noise: 
more tenderness of conscience, and less scrupu- 
losity : there will be more peace, more humility : 
when the full corn is in the ear, it bends down 
because it is full. 



The history of all the great characters of the 
Bible is summed up in this one sentence : — they 
acquainted themselves with God, and acquiesced 
in his will in all things. 



APPENDIX, 



423 



God's way of answering the Christian's prayer 
for an increase of patience, experience, hope, 
and love — usually is to put him into the furnace 
of tribulation. St. James therefore says, Count it 
all joy when ye fall into divers temptations. People 
of the world count it all joy when they are in ease 
and affluence; but a Christian is taught to count it 
all joy when he is tried as gold in the fire. 



In Christ we see the most perfect exhibition of 
every grace, to which we, as his followers, are 
called. Let there be but in us that poverty of 
spirit — that disposition to bear with provocations, 
and to forgive injuries — that obedience to God and 
acquiescence in his will — that perseverance in 
doing good — that love which overcometh all diffi- 
culties —that meekness, humility, patience, com- 
passion, and gentleness which were found in 
Christ; and if any man should be so ignorant and 
debased as to imagine that this is not true dig- 
nity of character, let it be remembered that 
this was the mind which was also in Christ Jesus! 



Looking back is more than we can sustain 
without going back ! 



When the multitudes followed our Lord on a 
particular occasion, although he wished for re- 



424 



REMAINS. 



tirement and had gone purposely to seek it, yet 
he gave up his design and attended to them. 
Mark the condescension and tenderness of such 
conduct, in opposition to a sour, monastic, morose 
temper. We are too fond of our own will. We 
want to be doing what we fancy mighty things ; 
but the great point is, to do small things, when 
called to them, in a right spirit. 



The world will allow of a vehemence approach- 
ing to ecstacy, on almost any occasion but that, 
which, above all others, will justify it. 



A christian will find his parenthesis for prayer, 
even through his busiest hours. 



We treat sensible and present things as realities, 
and future and eternal things as fables : whereas 
the reverse should be our habit. 



An Enthusiast will court trouble, and that for 
itself: but a Christian, while he does not court 
it, yet rejoices in it; not for its own sake, but 
because he knows that tribulation worketh patience, 
and patience experience, and experience hope — a 
hope that maketh not ashamed. While patience is 



APPENDIX. 



425 



the fruit of his conflicts and trials, he gains ex- 
perience by them : he acquires the knowledge which 
a traveller obtains in performing a long journey : 
he is in possession of a bundle of choice maxims 
and observations, gathered with much pains : he 
is taught by them to know his own heart: he is 
brought acquainted with the faithfulness and 
mercy of God, in holding him up in the deep 
waters, and accompanying him through the fire 
of affliction. And this experience produces hope— 
a hope that he is savingly united to Christ — a hope 
that he is in the Church of God — a hope of the 
glory of God — a hope that maketh not ashamed, 
keeping us steady at anchor through every storm, 
and when every other support fails. 



There are but two states in the world which may 
be pronounced happy — either that of the man 
who rejoices in the light of God's countenance, 
or that of him who mourns after it. 



Let the warm-hearted Christian be careful of 
receiving a wrong bias in religion. When a ball 
is in motion, almost anything presented to it ob- 
liquely will turn it wholly out of its course. Be- 
ware, therefore, of a wrong direction in Chris- 
tianity. Fix your attention ever on such examples 
as St. John and St. Paul, and hear how they 



4/26 



REMAINS. 



speak 'J If any man love not the Lord Jesus Christ, 
let him be Anathema, Maranatha ! 



God denies a Christian nothing, but with a design 
to give him something better. 



Cod teaches some of his best lessons in the school 
of Affliction. It is said that St. Paul's Epistle to 
the Ephesians has quite the spirit and air of a 
prison. That school must be truly excellent, 
which produces such experience and wisdom. 



We cannot build too confidently on the merits 
of Christ, as our only hope ; nor can we think 
too much of the mind that ivas in Christ, as our 
great example. 



A christian does not glory in tribulation, as he 
does in the cross of Christ. The Cross of Christ 
is the object in which he glories : but he glories 
in tribulation as an appointed means and instru- 
ment in the hand of God, of accomplishing his 
own pleasure and promoting our real good. 



Never was there a man of deep piety, who 
has not been brought into extremities — who has 



APPENDIX. 



427 



not been put into the fire —who has not been 
taught to say, Though he slay me, yet will I trust 
in him! 



A christian's steps are not only safe, but steady . 
— He, that believeth, shall not make haste. When 
danger approaches, he shall not be thrown into 
confusion from his alarm, so as to be ready to say 
" Whither shall I run?" but, finding himself on 
safe ground, he shall be quiet. Being built on 
the sure foundation and stablished in Christ, he 
shall not make haste in his expectations: he 
shall not make haste with respect to the promises, 
as though they were long in their accomplishment, 
knowing that all the promises of God are Yea, and, 
in Christ, Amen! In affliction, he shall not 
make haste in running to broken cisterns ; as Asa 
did, when, in his disease, he sought not to the 
Lord, but to the physicians: he shall not be 
alarmed, or driven about, as one who has not a 
strong-hold to enter ; but shall say, None of these 
things move me! neither count I my life dear unto 
myself, so that I might finish my course with joy! 
With respect to his character, the Christian 
shall not make haste: if a cloud come over his 
reputation, and men will suspect his integrity 
without grounds, he will commit himself to God, 
and wait his opportunity, and not make rash haste 
to justify and clear his character. 



428 



REMAINS. 



When a man can say " My God !" if he can add 
no more that is sufficient : for my God is all-wise 
in appointing, and almighty to uphold and to 
deliver. My God is a Father to me in Christ : 
yea he is a Father who hid his face from Christ 
for my good. If, then, I am in darkness, let me 
remember that God never had a Son that was not 
sometimes in the dark ; for even Christ, his only- 
begotten Son, cried out My God! My God! ivhy 
hast thou forsaken me ? 



Few Christians, if any, sufficiently honour Christ, 
as governing their concerns. They do not say, 
" Now while I am praying on earth, my Saviour 
is working for me in heaven. He is saying to one 
' Do this!' — and to another, ' Do that ! — and all 
for my good?" While Jeremiah was, doubtless, 
crying to God out of the dungeon, Ebed-melech 
was interceding for him with the king, and they 
were preparing the means of his deliverance. See 
Jer. xxxviii. 



Let the restless, comfortless state of a back- 
slider, distinguish him from an apostate. 



If you have set out in the ways of God do not 
stumble at present difficulties. Go forward. 
Look not behind. 



APPENDIX. 



429 



Something must be left as a test of the loyalty 
of the heart — in Paradise, the Tree : in Israel, a 
Canaanite : in us, Temptation. 



Religious joy is a holy, a delicate deposit. It 
is a pledge of something greater, and must not be 
thought lightly of: for let it be withdrawn only 
for a little, and, notwithstanding the experience 
we may have had of it, we shall find no living 
creature can restore it to us, and we can only, 
with David, cry Restore unto me, O Lord, the joy 
of thy salvation. 



A christian should beware of that temptation, 
Why should I ivait for the Lord any longer ? He 
should remember, if it is a time of extremity, that 
is the very reason why he should wait. If his 
way is so hedged up that he cannot go forward, 
he should say " Now is the time for me to stand 
still, and wait till God opens my way." When my 
spirit ivas overwhelmed ivithin me, then thoukneivest 
my path. 



Human nature is always putting forth its fears 
and unbelief, in anxious questions concerning to- 
morrow, or some threatening calamity : but Christ 
says to every Christian " Let not your heart be 



430 



REMAINS. 



troubled, neither let it be afraid : I go to prepare a 
place for you ; and I will protect and guide you 
throughout the journey thither." 

God with us is the traveller's security. Jacob 
was destitute : he had a long and dreary journey, 
but God said Behold I am with thee, and will 
keep thee in all places whither thou goest. 



God calls not for thousands of rams, nor ten thou- 
sands of rivers of oil: he calls not his creatures to 
live in sackcloth and ashes, nor sets them to per- 
form long pilgrimages, nor to inflict pains on their 
bodies. No ! the rigours of superstition are from 
man. The voice of God is, " Be happy, here and 
for ever! Fly that which will make you miserable 
every where ! Come unto me, all that labour and 
are heavy-laden, and I will give you rest!" 



The voice of Christ is, My Son give me thy heart! 
and to him who obeys, he will say, " Go in peace ! 
Go into the Grave! go to Judgment! go into 
Eternity ! go in peace !" 



A christian must stand in a posture to receive 
every message which God shall send. He must 
be so prepared, as to be like one who is called to 
set off on a sudden journey, and has nothing to do 



APPENDIX. 



431 



but to set out at a moment's notice : or like a 
merchant who has goods to send abroad, and has 
them all packed up and in readiness for the first 
sail. 



How many people go out of their sphere under 
good pretences ! 



A person who objects to tell a friend of his faults, 
because he has faults of his own, acts as a surgeon 
would who should refuse to dress another per- 
sons wound because he had a dangerous one 
himself. 



When the most insignificant person tells us we 
are wrong, we ought to listen. Let us believe it 
possible we may be wrong, when any one sup- 
poses we are ; and enter into the true littleness 
which consists in receiving correction like a child. 



No man rejects a Minister of God who faithfully 
performs his office, till he has rejected God. 



The plainest declarations of Gods favour, and 
the strongest encouragements, are generally mani- 



432 REMAINS. 

fested in the darkest night of trial. Who could 
be more destitute than Jacob, when he lay down 
in the desart with a stone for his pillow ? See also 
Acts xxvii. 20—24. 2 Cor. i. 3, 4, 5. 



The pride of Israel testifieth to his face : and they 
do not return to the Lord their God. This is the 
worst symptom in a sinner — when he is too proud 
to go to God. Whatever be our condition, if 
there is contrition of spirit under it there is hope 
of that man. There is no room for despair, to 
whatever lengths a man may have gone in sin, if 
he can smite on his breast, and say " O Lord ! 
though my sins testify against me, yet thou art a 
God of compassion. Do thou it, for thy name's 
sake." 



A christian should never attempt to try his state 
while under a temptation : he might as well at- 
tempt to examine the face of the moon while she 
is under an eclipse. But, when he finds corrupt 
nature setting in with a temptation — and who has 
not felt this ? — let him remember his Great Phy- 
sician. This is the glory of the Son of God, that 
no case, either of the body or of the soul, was ever 
found too hard for Him ! Blessed be God, that we 
have in Him a hiding-place— a covert from the 
storm — a refuge from all our enemies ! 



APPENDIX. 433 

The great care of the man who is content with 
the form of godliness without the power, is, 
that every thing should be right without ; while 
the true Christian is most careful that every thing 
should be right within. It would be nothing to 
him to be applauded by the whole world, if he 
had not the approbation of God and his own con- 
science. Real religion is, therefore, a living 
principle. Any one may make a show, and be 
called a Christian, and unite himself to a sect, 
and be admired : — but for a man to enter into the 
sanctuary ; to hold secret communion with God ; 
to retire into his closet, and transact all his affairs 
with an unseen Saviour ; to walk with God like 
Enoch, and yet to smite on his breast with the 
Publican, having no confidence in the flesh and 
triumphing only in Christ Jesus — these are the 
life and acts of a new creature ! 



O Lord ! let me have anything, but thy Frown; 
and anything with thy Smile* ! 



Whatever, below God, is the object of our love, 
will, at some time or other, be the matter of our 
sorrow. 



* u Give what thou canst, without Thee we are poor ; 
And with Thee rich, take what thou wilt away. 

Cowper, Task. V. J. P. 

t Ff 



434 



REMAINS. 



Take care, Christian ! whatever you meet with 
in your way, that you forget not your father ! 
When the proud and wealthy rush by in triumph, 
while you are poor and in sorrow, hear the voice 
of your Father saying, " My Son ! had I loved 
them, I should have corrected them too. I give 
them up to the ways of their own hearts : but to 
my children, if I give sorrow, it is that I may lead 
them to a crown of glory that fadeth not away !" 



It is by Faith that we contemplate unseen things. 
To the eye of a clown, a planet appears but a 
twinkling star : but if he looked through a teles- 
cope, and were able to calculate, he would per- 
ceive that it was a great world, and would be 
astonished at its distance and magnitude. While 
the gay and the busy are moving on their little 
mole-hills, full of anxiety, Faith thus reaches 
beyond the world : it views Death as at hand : 
it looks at Heaven, and catches a glimpse of its 
glory: it looks at Hell, and sees the torments 
of the condemned : it looks at Judgment, and 
realizes that awful day : it looks at Eternity, and 
says Our light affliction, which is but for a moment, 
worketh for us a far more exceeding and eternal 
weight of glory : while we look not at the things 
which are seen, but at the things which are not 
seen ; for the things which are seen are temporal, 
hut the things which are not seen are eternal. 



APPENDIX. 



435 



Where there is a real character, a man will not 
sit down in the Christian conflict, and say " If I 
must carry about with me this body of death, I 
must submit. I must bear these enemies as 
quietly as I can." No ! he will say, as St. Paul 
seems to say, " I will be on no terms with sin ! I 
will raise an outcry against the corrupt nature | 
I will triumph in my Physician ! His grace is suf- 
ficient for me : I will wait for a cure, and wait 
for it in the appointed way. I see light, and hope, 
and liberty ; and I thank God, that if I am a 
sinner, yet I am a saved sinner !" 



God hath set the day of prosperity and the day of 
adversity, the one over against the other— &s the 
clouds are gathered, for rain, by the shining of 
the sun : and, if for a moment they are blown 
aside, we must expect their return. Where, in 
our sky, should we look for clouds ? — where it is 
brightest: where our expectations are highest. 
Our sharpest sorrows arise out of our sweetest 
comforts. Rachel said, Give me children, or else 
I die: and, in obtaining what she esteemed her 
highest comfort — what she would have at any 
rate — was hidden the cause of her sharpest grief. 
God gave her children ; and, in bearing her second 
child, it came to pass, as her soid ivas in departing 
( for she died ) that she called his name JJen-oni — 
the Son of my Sorrow, 



Ff 2 



436 



REMAINS. 



Who is the most miserable man on earth?— and 
whither shall we go to seek him? — Not to the 
tavern ! not to the theatre ! not even to a brothel ! 
— but to the Church! That man who has sat 
Sabbath after Sabbath under the awakening and 
affecting calls of the Gospel, and has hardened 
his heart against these calls — he is the man whose 
condition is the most desperate of all others. Woe 
unto thee, Chorazin ! icoe unto thee, JBethsaida ! — 
and thou, Capernaum, ivhich art exalted to heaven, 
shalt be thrust down to hell. 



Give every kind of knowledge its due attention 
and respect : but what science is to be compared 
to the knowledge of Christ crucified? Had a tra- 
veller lost his way in some desert, where he had 
wandered till he was fainting with hunger and 
thirst, for what would he first ask ? — for music ? 
— for paintings? — No ! — he would ask for bread 
— for water ! Anything else offered him would be 
a mocking of his misery. 



What an oppressive burden is taken off a Chris- 
tian's shoulders, by his privilege of leaving all 
consequences, while in the path of duty, to God ! 
He has done with— " How shall I bear this 
trouble?" — " How shall /remove this difficulty?" 
— " How shall I get through this deep water?" — ■ 
but leaves himself in the hands of God. 



APPENDIX. 



437 



We may form some idea of the joys of heaven, 
hy the innocent pleasures which God grants us 
on earth. Here is a fine situation, with wonderful 
prospects ; every thing to delight the senses : yet all 
this we find in a world which is under a curse! what 
then may we not expect in a heavenly world, where 
God exercises all his power for our blessedness? 



However ill men may treat us, we should never 
give them a handle to say that we misbehaved 
ourselves. Were I to meet my most bitter ad- 
versary, and know that he was come with the 
most malicious intentions, I should endeavour to 
be so on my guard, that he could not lay his 
finger, with truth, on any part of my conduct. 



The motive determines the quality of actions. 
One man may do a penurious act, because he 
knows he shall be put to difficulties if he does 
not : another may do the same from mere avarice. 
The king of Edom offered up his son on the wall, 
and his abominable cruelty excited just indigna- 
tion : but Abraham, having in intention offered up 
his son, is held forth to all generations for this 
act as the Father of the Faithful. 



It is always a sign of poverty of mind, where 
men are ever aiming to appear great : for they, 
who are really great, never seem to know it, 



438 



REMAINS. 



What the world calls the best company is such, 
as a pious mechanic would not condescend to 
keep : he would rather say, Turn away mine eyes 
from beholding vanity ! 



One way of reading the Bible with advantage is, 
to pay it great homage : so that, when we come 
to any part which we cannot connect with other 
passages, we must conclude that this arises from 
our ignorance, but that the seeming contrarieties 
are in themselves quite reconcilable. 



Young Christians, on setting out in life, often 
mistake greatly in not sufficiently attributing 
events to the immediate providence of God. They 
are not reluctant, at the end, to acknowledge 
that their way has been directed; but they do not 
enough mark it as they go on. There is a habit of 
saying " Such a thing may turn up," as if it de- 
pended on chance ; whereas nothing will turn up, 
but what was ordered long before. One cause of 
this evil is, that the divinity of our day deals too 
much in common-place : certain fundamental 
truths are set forth ; and if a man professes these 
truths, too little account is made of the faith, de- 
pendence, and other graces of a Christian. When 
a man becomes a Christian he is written upon, as 
it were, " to be provided for !" — and he ought, 
therefore, to notice, as he goes on, how Provi- 
dence does provide for him. 



APPENDIX. 



439 



Men mistake in nothing so much, as when they 
resist their dispensation : for, while God shutteth 
up a man, there can be no opening. Resistance 
does but make the dispensation harder to be borne. 
Job says, He teareth himself in his anger : hut 
shall the Rock be removed because of thee? The 
man is, as it were, in a labyrinth ; and the hand, 
which brought him in, must be the hand to conduct 
him out. 



We require the same hand to protect us in ap- 
parent safety, as in the most imminent and pal- 
pable danger. One of the most wicked men in 
my neighbourhood was riding near a precipice, 
and fell over : his horse was killed, but he es- 
caped without injury: instead of thanking God 
for his deliverance, he refused to acknowledge 
the hand of God therein, but attributed his escape 
to chance. The same man was afterward riding 
on a very smooth road : his horse suddenly 
tripped and fell, and threw his rider over his head, 
and killed him on the spot, while the horse es- 
caped unhurt. 



If a man is dead in sin, our attempting to correct 
his false notions is like laying a dead man. straight, 
who before was lying crooked. The man is dead, 
and will remain so ; though, before, he was lying- 
crooked, and is now lying straight. It matters 



440 



REMAINS. 



little what right notions we may have, while we 
are dead in sin ; for we shall never act up to them, 
till God awakens our hearts. 



To have too much forethought, is the part of a 
wretch: to have too little, is the part of a fool 



SelFtWill is so ardent and active, that it will 
break a world to pieces, to make a stool to sit on. 



We are too little acquainted with the sacred 
character of God. A certain man sold a possession, 
and brought a certain part of the price. We should 
have thought this a generous act: but God saw 
that there wanted a right estimation of his cha- 
racter. Many sins are suffered to pass, to be 
punished hereafter : but God sometimes breaks 
out, and strikes an offender dead in vindication 
of his own glory. 



Remember always to mix good sense with good 
things, or they will become disgusting. 



Things are not to be done by the effort of the 
moment, but by the preparation of past moments. 



If there is any person to whom you feel dislike, that 
is the person of whom you ought never to speak. 



APPENDIX. 



441 



Irritability urges us to take a step as much 
too soon, as sloth does too late. 



When we read the Bible we must always re- 
member, that, like the holy waters seen by 
EzekieP, it is, in some places, up to the ancles; 
in others, up to the knees; in others, up to the loins ; 
and, in some, a river too deep to be fathomed, 
and that cannot be passed over. There is light 
enough to guide the humble and teachable to 
heaven, and obscurity enough to confound the 
unbeliever. 



True religion, as revealed in the Scriptures, may 
be compared to a plum on the tree, covered with 
its bloom. Men gather the plum, and handle it, 
and turn and twist it about, till it is deprived of 
all its native bloom and beauty : the fairest hand 
would as much rob the plum of its bloom, as any 
other. Now all that little party-spirit, which so 
much prevails among men, and which leads them 
to say / am of Paul and I of Apollos — is but 
handling the plum till it loses its bloom. 



There are but two classes of the wise: — the 
men who serve God, because they have- found 



* Ezek. ch. xlvii. 



442 



REMAINS. 



him; and the men who seek him, because they 
have found him not. All others may say, Is there 
not a lie in my right-hand ? 



Philosophy is a proud, sullen detecter of the 
poverty and misery of man. It may turn him 
from the world with a proud, sturdy contempt: 
but it cannot come forward, and say " Here are 
rest — grace — peace— strength — consolation!" 



We hear much of a decent pride — a becoming 
pride — a noble pride — a laudable pride ! Can 
that be decent, of which we ought to be ashamed? 
— Can that be becoming, of which God has set 
forth the deformity ? — Can that be noble, which 
God resists, and is determined to debase ? — Can 
that be laudable, which God calls abominable? 



Many things are spoken of, in the Scriptures, 
as good: but there is not one thing emphatically 
called good, which does not relate to Christ or 
his coming. 



Say the strongest things you can, with candour 
and kindness, to a man's face; and make the best 
excuse you can for him, with truth and justice, 
behind his back. 



APPENDIX. 



443 



Ma ny people labour to make the narrow way wider. 
They may dig a path into the broad way; but the 
way to life must remain a narrow way to the end. 



All extremes are error. The reverse of error is 
not truth, but error. Truth lies between these 
extremes. 



I have no doubt, but that there are persons of 
every description, under every possible circum- 
stance, in every lawful calling among Christians, 
who will go to heaven — that all the world may 
see, that neither their circumstances nor calling 
prevented their being among the number of the 
blessed. 



God has given us four books: — the Book of 
Grace; the Book of Nature; the Book of the 
World; and the Book of Providence. Every 
occurrence is a leaf in one of these books : it 
does not become us to be negligent in the use of 
any of them. 

Eloquence is vehement simplicity. 



God is omniscient as well as omnipotent: and 
Omniscience may see reason to withhold what 
Omnipotence could bestow. 



444 



REMAINS. 



Attend to the presence of God : this will dignify 
a small congregation, and annihilate a large one. 



Having some business to transact with a gentle- 
man in the city, I called one day at his Counting 
House: he begged I would call again, as I had 
so much more time to spare than he had, who 
was a man of business. " An hour is nothing to 
you," said he — " An hour nothing to a Clergyman!" 
said I : " you seem little to understand the nature 
of our profession. One hour of a Clergyman's 
time rightly employed, Sir, is worth more to him 
than all the gains of your merchandize." 



If a man has a quarrelsome temper, let him alone. 
The World will soon find him employment. He 
will soon meet with some one stronger than him- 
self, who will repay him better than you can. A 
man may fight duels all his life, if he is disposed 
to quarrel. 



One day I got off my horse to kill a rat, which 
I found on the road only half killed. I am 
shocked at the thoughtless cruelty of many people : 
yet I did a thing soon after, that has given me 
considerable uneasiness, and for which I reproach 
myself bitterly. As I was riding homeward, I 
saw a waggon standing at a door, with three 
horses : the two foremost were eating their corn 



APPENDIX. 



445 



from bags at their noses ; but I observed the third 
had dropt his on the ground, and could not stoop 
to get any food. However I rode on, in absence, 
without assisting him. But when 1 had got nearly 
home, I remembered what I had observed in my 
absence of mind, and felt extremely hurt at my 
neglect ; and would have ridden back had I not 
thought the waggoner might have come out of the 
house and relieved the horse. A man could not 
have had a better demand for getting off his horse, 
than for such an act of humanity. It is by absence 
of mind, that we omit many duties. 



A wicked man is a candidate for nothing but Hell ! 
— However he may live, if his conscience were 
awake he would turn pale at this question, What 
shall I do in the end thereof? 



There is a great defect in Gray's Elegy. You 
cannot read it without feeling a melancholy: there 
is no sunshine— no hope after death : it shews the 
dark side only of mortality. But a man refined 
as he was, and speculating on the bankruptcy of 
human nature, if he brought not evangelical views 
into the estimate, could describe human nature 
only as hopeless and forlorn : whereas what 
he felt a subject of melancholy, is with me in- 
cluded in the calculation. I know it must be so, 



446 



REMAINS. 



and, according to my views, should be disap- 
pointed if it were not so. — My kingdom, said our 
Lord, is not of this world. 



Revelation never staggers me. There may be 
a tertium quid, though we are not yet in pos- 
session of it, which would put an end to all our 
present doubts and questions. I was one day 
riding with a friend: we were discussing a subject, 
and I expressed myself surprised that such a 
measure was not adopted. " If I were to tell 
you one thing," said he, " it would make all clear." 
I gave him credit that there did exist something, 
which would entirely dispel my objections. Now 
if this be the case, in many instances, between 
man and man, is it an unreasonable conclusion, 
that all the unaccountable points, which we may 
observe in the providence and government of God, 
should be all perfection in the Divine mind? Take 
the growth of a seed — I cannot possibly say what 
first produces the progress of growth in the grain. 
Take voluntary motion — I cannot possibly say 
where action begins and thought ends. The pro- 
portion between a fly's mind and a man's is no 
adequate illustration of the state of man with 
respect to God ; because there is some proportion 
between the minds or faculties of two finite crea- 
tures, but there can be none between finite man 
and the Infinite God. 



APPENDIX. 



447 



One little Preacher will endeavour to prove, with 
a great deal of warmth, the truth of Calvinistic 
principles and another little Preacher will 
clearly demonstrate the truth of the Arminian 
scheme. Good sense will go between them, and 
say, " There are certain things written on these 
subjects — " Thus smith the Lord:" good sense 
will hesitate to push what is said to all its apparent 
conclusions, for — It is ivritten again. Here ends 
all dogmatism with a wise man. 



A mouse that had lived all his life in a chest, 
says the fable, chanced one day to creep up to 
the edge, and, peeping out, exclaimed with wonder 
— 1 did not think the world was so large." 

The first step to knowledge, is, to know that 
we are ignorant. It is a great point to know our 
place : for want of this, a man in private life, 
instead of attending to the affairs in his " chest," 
is ever peeping out, and then he becomes a phi- 
losopher! he must then know every thing, and 
presumptuously pry into the deep and secret 
councils of God — not considering that man is 
finite, and has no faculties to comprehend and 
judge of the great scheme of things. We can 
form no other idea of the dispensations of God, 
nor can have any knowledge of spiritual things, 
except what God has taught us in his word; and, 
where he stops, we must stop. He has not told 



448 



REMAINS. 



us why he permitted the Angels to fall — why he 
created Adam— why he suffered sin to enter into 
the world — why Christ came in the latter ages— 
when he will come to judgment — what will be the 
doom of the Heathen nations — nor why our state 
throughout eternity was made to depend on such 
a moment as man's life: all these are secrets of his 
council. Where ivast thou, ivhen I laid the foun- 
dations of the earth? God urges it on us again and 
again, that Sin has entered — and that we must 
Jlee from the wrath to come. Christ, in the days 
of his flesh, never gratified curiosity : he answered 
every enquiry according to the spirit of the en- 
quirer, not according to the letter of the enquiry: 
if any man came in humility for instruction, he 
always instructed; but, when any came to gratify 
a vain curiosity, he answered, as when one said 
Lord, are there few that be saved? — strive to 

ENTER IN AT THE STRAIT GATE.' — Or, as when 

another enquired, Lord, and what shall this man 
do? — What is that to thee? follow thou me. 



We are too ready to say, in trouble, All these 
things are against me! but a Christian should say, 
" This or that may seem against me ! but there is 
mercy for me : there is a Saviour: there is God's 
word: and there are his ordinances. He should 
be more careful to enumerate what is for him, 
than what is against him. He should look over 



APPENDIX. 449 

the list of his spiritual and temporal mercies, as 
well as that of his sorrows ; and remember, that 
what things are against him are so on account 
of his sin. Our pilgrimage is but short: — let us 
make use of our helps and means. God has given 
us a guide, and a support to lean on : when the 
clouds gather, we have only to look to Jesus. 
We are not to expect the joys of Heaven while on 
Earth : — let us be content that there is a highway 
for us to walk in, and a leader to conduct us in 
that way. 



It is a Christian's business, as much as possible, 
consistently with his duty, to lessen his cares and 
occupations in the world. It is very common to 
hear Christians complain what a hinderance busi- 
ness is, while they are, perhaps at the very time, 
too anxious to encrease it ! There is some fallacy, 
too, in the complaint: for, where there is a prin- 
ciple of grace, it will prevail even in a multitude 
of engagements. There is much difference be- 
tween seeking busy situations, and being found 
in them. 



What we call " taking steps in life," are most 
serious occurrences; — especially if there be, in 
the motive, any mixture of ambition. Wherefore 
gaddest thou about to change thy way ? 

t Gg 



450 



REMAINS. 



The dispensation of grace to some, is little more 
than a continual combat with corruptions : so 
that, instead of advancing, a man seems to be 
but just able to preserve himself from sinking. 
A boat, with the tide full against it, does well if 
it can keep from driving back, and must have 
strong force indeed to get forward. We must esti- 
mate grace by the opposition which it meets with. 



How blessed is the Christian, in the midst of his 
greatest troubles ! It is true we cannot say he is 
perfect in holiness — that he has never any doubts 
— that his peace of mind is never interrupted — 
that he never mistakes Providence : but, after all, 
his is a blessed condition ; for he is supported 
under his trials, and instructed by the discipline ; 
and, as to his fears, the evil under the apprehen- 
sion of which he is ready to sink, frequently does 
not come — or it does not continue — or it is 
turned into a blessing. 



One of the greatest impositions of Satan on the 
mind, is that of quieting a man in the pursuit or 
possession of what is lawful. So that it is not 
murder, or adultery, or theft which he is com- 
mitting, all is well ! Because a man's bed is his 
own, he may idle away in it his inestimable time ! 
Because his business is lawful, a man may intoxi- 
cate his mind with the pursuit of it. r 



APPENDIX. 



451 



The very heart and root of sin, is an independent 
spirit. We erect the Idol self; and not only 
wish others to worship, but worship it ourselves. 



We must take care when we draw parallel cases, 
not to take such as are not or cannot be made 
parallel. For instance — we may ask, before we 
act, "What would Jesus Christ do in this case? or 
what would St. Paul ?" but we cannot be guided 
by this rule in every thing, because Christ's mis- 
sion was peculiar : it was an unparalleled event : 
it was for three years only : and, like a great fire, 
he was always burning — always intent on one 
point. St. Paul also was in peculiar circumstances : 
he was sent on an especial errand. In every thing 
which is in any degree sinful, we should turn to 
these examples ; but, in the conduct peculiar to 
our station, our application of these examples, 
must be governed by circumstances. 



Many inexperienced Christians are apt to look 
for wrong kind of evidences, and so distress 
themselves about their state. The questions which 
we should put to ourselves, in seeking the best 
evidences, are — " Do I hate sin ? — Is it my grand 
fear ? — Is it my grief, that, while I have a good 
hope of pardon, I yet should make such ill returns ? 
Have 1 brokenness of spirit ?"— Godliness is 

Gg2 



452 



REMAINS. 



analogous to the principle of gravitation, in that it 
reduces every thing to its proper centre. 



The difference between what is called fate, and 
predestination, is something like that of a 
house ivithout a governor, and a house with a 
governor. The Fatalist says, " Every thing must, 
of necessity, be as it is — as a stone must fall to 
the ground, fire must ascend, &c." The Predes- 
tinarian says, that every thing is determined by a 
wise Governor, who inspects, orders, and super- 
intends the whole machine; so that a sparrow 
does not fall to the ground, or a hair of the head 
perish without permission. 



We are so accustomed to see sin within and with- 
out us, that we seldom deeply feel it ; or are so 
shocked at it, as we should be were it less frequent. 
If an inhabitant of the Court were to walk through 
some of the filthy streets and alleys of the Metro- 
polis, how would he be disgusted and terrified ! 
while the poor wretches, who live in them, think 
nothing of the matter. Thus a clearer view of 
sin and of the holiness of God, made the Prophet 
cry out, Woe is me! for 1 am undone ; because I 
am a man of unclean lips, and I dwell in the midst 
of a people of unclean lips; for mine eyes have seen 
the King, the Lord of Hosts. 



APPENDIX. 453 

It is much easier to settle a point, than to act 
on it. 



I once said to myself, in the foolishness of my 
heart, " What sort of Sermon must that have 
been which was preached by St. Peter, when 
three thousand souls were converted at once?" — 
what sort of Sermon!— such as other sermons. 
There is nothing to be found in it extraordinary. 
The effect was not produced by St. Peters elo- 
quence; but by the mighty power of God, present 
with his word. It is in vain to attend one Minis- 
ter after another, and to hear Sermon after Sermon, 
unless we pray that the Holy Spirit accompany 
his word. Neither is he that planteth anything, 
neither he that water eih: but God that giveth 
the increase. 



That humility, which courts notice is not first- 
rate. It may be sincere, but it is sullied. Do 
not sound a trumpet, nor say " Come and see how 
humble I am!" 



We should be careful never to discourage any one 
who is but searching after God. If a man begins 
in earnest to feel after him if haply he may find 
him, let us be aware how we stop him, by rashly 
telling him he is not seeking in the right way. This 
would be like setting fire to the first round of the 



454 



REMAINS. 



ladder, by which one was attempting to escape. 
We must wait for a fit season to communicate light. 
Had any one told me when I first began to think 
religiously, that I was not seeking God in the 
right way, I might have been discouraged from 
seeking him at all. I was much indebted to my 
mother, for her truly wise and judicious conduct 
toward me when I first turned from my vanity 
and sin. 



We should always record our thoughts in afflic- 
tion — set up way-marks — set up our Bethels — 
erect our Ebenezers ; that we may recur to them 
in health : for then we are in other circumstances, 
and can never recover our sick-bed views. 



A contemplative life has more the appearance 
of a life of piety than any other : but it is the 
divine plan to bring faith into activity and exer- 
cise. We choose that sort of walk, which we 
like best : if we love quiet, we are for sedentary 
piety ; but the design of God is to root us out 
of every thing, and bring us into more useful 
stations. 



A wretched prisoner, chained to the floor for a 
length of time, would deem it a high privilege to 
be allowed to walk across the room. Another, 



APPENDIX. 



455 



confined to lie on his back till it had become sore, 
would think it a great favour if he might be per- 
mitted to turn on his side for a few minutes. In 
a course of habitual pain, I am thankful for five 
minutes freedom from suffering : how forgetful 
have I beeu of fifty years of tolerable ease ! How 
unmindful are we of what we call common mercies! 



In order to read the Bible with profit, we must 
begin by denying ourselves every step of the way; 
for, every step of the way, it will be found to 
oppose our corrupt nature. 



Christians resemble travellers in a stage-coach. 
We are full of our plans and schemes, but the 
coach is moving rapidly forward : it passes one 
mile-stone, and then another ; and no regard is 
paid to the plots and plans of the passengers. 



A christian has advanced but a little way in 
religion when he has overcome the love of the 
world ; for he has still more powerful and im- 
portunate enemies : self — evil tempers — pride — 
undue affections — a stubborn will — it is by the 
subduing of these adversaries, that we must 
chiefly judge of our growth in grace. 



456 



REMAINS. 



A friend called on me when I was ill, to settle 
some business. My head was too much confused 
by my indisposition to understand fully what he 
said ; but I had such unlimited confidence in him, 
that I did whatever he bid me, in the fullest as- 
surance that it was right. How simply I can trust 
in man, and how little in God ! How unreason- 
able is a pure act of faith in one like ourselves, 
if we cannot repose the same faith in God ! , 



SOME NEGATIVE RULES 



GIVEN TO A 

YOUNG MINISTER 

GOING INTO A SITUATION OF PECULIAR DIFFICULTY. 



_A S I know you have received much good advice, 
I would suggest to you a few hints of a negative 
kind ; with a view of admonishing you to be care- 
ful, while you are doing your work, not by any 
mistakes of your own to hinder your success — 

I. BY FORGETTING THAT YOUR SUCCESS WITH 
OTHERS IS VERY MUCH CONNECTED WITH YOUR 
PERSONAL CHARACTER. 

Herod heard John gladly, and he did many 
things ; because he knew the preacher to be a 
just and holy man. Words uttered from the heart 
find their way to the heart, by a holy sympathy. 
Character is power : — 

" A good man seen, though silent, counsel gives." 

If you would make deep impressions on others, 
you must use all means to have them first formed 
on your own mind. Avoid, at the same time, all 
appearances of evil — as a covetous or worldly, a 



468 



REMAINS. 



vain or assuming, a careless or indevout deport- 
ment. Never suffer jesting with sacred persons or 
things. Satan will employ such antidotes as these, 
to counteract the operation of that which is effec- 
tive and gracious in a Minister's character. 

II. BY PLACING YOUR DEPENDENCE ON ANY 
MEANS, QUALITIES, OR CIRCUMSTANCES, HOW- 
EVER EXCELLENT IN THEMSELVES. 

The direct way to render a thing weak, is, to 
lean on it as strong. God is a jealous God ; and 
will utterly abolish idols as means of success. He 
designs to demonstrate that men and creatures are 
what he makes them, and that only. This also 
should be your encouragement : — looking, in the 
diligent and humble use of means, to that Spirit 
of Life and Power without whose influence all 
your endeavours will be to no purpose, you have 
reason to expect help suited and adequate to all 
your difficulties. 

III. BY UNNECESSARILY APPEARING IN DAN- 
GEROUS OR IMPROPER SITUATIONS." 

It is one thing to be humble and condescending: 
it is another to render yourself common, cheap, and 
contemptible. The men of the world know when 
a Minister is out of his place — when they can op- 
press him by numbers or circumstances— when 
they can make him laugh, while his office frowns. 
Well will it be for him, if he is only rendered 



APPENDIX. 



459 



absurd in his future public admonitions, by his 
former compliances ; well if, being found like 
St. Peter on dangerous ground, he is not seduced, 
virtually at least, to deny his Master. 

IV. BY SUSPICIOUS APPEARANCES IN HIS FAMILY. 

As the head of your household you are respon- 
sible for its appearances. Its pride, sloth, and 
disorder will be yours. You are accountable for 
your wife's conduct, dress, and manners ; as well 
as those of your children, whose education must 
be peculiarly exemplary. Your family is to be a 
picture of what you wish other families to be : and, 
without the most determined resolution, in reli- 
ance on God, to finish this picture cost what it 
will, your recommending Family Religion to 
others will but create a smile. Your unfriendly 
hearers will recollect enough of Scripture to tell 
you that you ought, like the Primitive Bishop, to 
be one, that ruleth ivell his own house, having' his 
children in subjection with all gravity : for if a man 
know not how to rule his own house, how shall he 
take care of the Church of God ? 

V. BY MEDDLING, BEYOND YOUR SPHERE, IN 
TEMPORALS. 

Your aim and conversation, like your sacred 
call, are to be altogether heavenly. As man of 
God, you have no concern with politics and 



460 



REMAINS. 



parties and schemes of interest, but you are to live 
above them. There is a sublime spirit in a de- 
voted Minister, which, as one says of Christianity 
itself, pays no more regard to these things than to 
the battles of rooks, the industry of ants, or the 
policy of bees. 

VI. BY VENTURING OFF GENERAL AND AC- 
KNOWLEDGED GROUND IN SPIRITUALS. 

By giving strong meat, instead of milk, to those 
who are yet but babes — by giving heed to fables, 
which minister questions rather than godly edify- 
ing; amusing the mind, but not affecting the 
heart ; often disturbing and bewildering, seldom 
convincing; frequently raising a smile, never 
drawing a tear. 

VII. BY MAINTAINING ACKNOWLEDGED TRUTH 

IN YOUR OWN SPIRIT. 

Both food and medicines are injurious, if ad- 
ministered scalding hot. The spirit of a teacher 
often effects more than his matter. Benevolence 
is a universal language: and it will apologize for 
a multitude of defects, in the man who speaks it; 
while neither talents nor truth will apologize for 
pride, illiberality, or bitterness. Avoid, therefore, 
irritating occasions and persons, particularly dis- 
putes and disputants, by which a Minister often 
loses his temper and his character. 



APPENDIX. 



461 



VIII. BY BEING TOO SHARP-SIGHTED, TOO QUICK- 

EARED, OR TOO READY-TONGUED. 

Some evils are irremediable : they are best 
neither seen nor heard: by seeing and hearing 
things which you cannot remove, you will create 
implacable adversaries ; who, being guilty aggres- 
sors, never forgive. Avoid speaking meanly or 
harshly of any one : not only because this is for- 
bidden to Christians, but because it is to declare 
war as by a thousand heralds. 

IX. BY THE TEMPTATIONS ARISING FROM THE 

FEMALE SEX. 

I need not mention what havoc Satan has made 
in the Church, by this means, from the Fall to this 
day. Your safety, when in danger from this quar- 
ter, lies in flight — to parley, is to fall. Take the 
first hint from conscience, or from friends. 

In fine, W atch thou in all things : endure afflic- 
tions: do the work of an evangelist: make full proof 
of thy ministry : and then, whether those around 
you acknowledge your real character or not now, 
they shall one day know that there hath been a 
prophet among them ! 



FRAGMENT. 



A DYING MINISTER'S FAREWELL! 



w HEN a Christian Minister feels the springs 
of life giving away : — his faculties decaying — his 
voice failing — his spirits sinking— though he may 
not have it in his power to say, as the Apostle did 
to his friends, I know that ye all, among whom I 
have preached the kingdom of God, shall see my 
face no more — Yet he should stand ready to part 
from his flock, and every Sermon should be felt 
by him as if it were his last. 

Wherefore I take you to record this day, that I 
am pure from the blood of all men: for I have not 
shunned to declare unto you all the counsel of 
god. And what have I declared that counsel of 
God to be ? — All the curious distinctions of the 
schools? — All the peculiarities insisted on so 
strongly by different sects ? — No such thing ! I 
have followed the great Apostle in testifying re- 
pentance toward God, and faith toward our 
Lord Jesus Christ, 

There has been a slander brought against reli- 
gion — that we are not agreed, as to the truths 



APPENDIX. 



463 



we should set before men. I say, It is false ! We 
are agreed. All, who know anything of real 
religion, are agreed, that the substance of the 
matter is contained in repentance toward God, 
and faith toward our Lord Jesus Christ. 

If a man, like the Prodigal, feels that he has left 
his father's house — turned his back on God —and 
is become a fool and a madman for so doing — and 
that there is no hope but in his returning again : if 
such a change of mind is wrought in him by the 
Holy Spirit, as he wrought in David, when he cried 
Wash me throughly from my iniquity, and cleanse 
me from my sin: if, like Peter, he goes forth weep- 
ing bitterly — feeling that he has acted foolishly 
and wickedly, and that his only hope is in the 
mercy of God through the Saviour — then the man 
enters so far into the spirit of religion — repent- 
ance TOWARD GOD. 

But does he rest in this? Nay, he knows that if 
he could offer thousands of rams, and ten thousand 
rivers of oil, he could make no satisfaction for the 
sin of his soul. He looks to the atonement ! — to 
Him, whom God hath set forth to be a 'propitiation 
tit rough faith in his blood. 

Repentance toward God must be accompanied 
by faith toward our Lord Jesus Christ. 

He came unto his own, and his own received him 
not. Hut as many as received him, to them gave 
he power to become the sons of God, even to them 
that believe on his name: which were born not of 



464 



REMAINS. 



blood, nor of the will of the flesh, nor of the will 
of man, but of God. These men are enabled to 
say, with St. Paul, " I count all things but loss for 
the excellency of the knowledge of Christ Jesus our 
Lord. I have no refuge but in him— no other hope 
— no other plea. All my confidence before God 
is grounded on this— that He suffered, the just for 
the unjust, that he might bring us to God." 

If a Minister testifies these things — if he speaks 
plainly and simply these grand essential truths of 
God's word — though he die before another Sab- 
bath return, he may rest in peace — leaving the 
issue in God's hand. 

The ground of a Minister's own solid satisfaction 
cannot be popularity : for, even to Simon Magus 
all gave heed, from the least to the greatest, saying, 
This man is the great poiver of God! — neither 
can he ground his satisfaction on the exercise of 
strong and enlarged talents : for even Balaam 
was a man of extraordinary endowments — nor can 
it be on his success : For many, saith our Lord, 
shall come to me, and say, Have we not done many 
wonderful works in thy name, and in thy name cast 
out devils? Then will I profess unto them, I never 
knew you! As though he had said, " I deny not 
the works, but ye are evil men !" 

But a Minister's satisfaction must be grounded 
on the faithful discharge of his office in the deli- 
very of his message. A Prince sends a special 
Messenger to his rebellious subjects, with offers of 



APPENDIX. 



465 



pardon : in examining his conduct, he will not en- 
quire whether they received and approved him or 
not : the question will be — " Did you deliver my 
message ? Did you deliver it as one that believed 
it yourself? — as one in earnest ?" If a man 
should come and tell you, with a cheerful counte- 
nance and careless air, that your house was on fire, 
and that you and your children would be burnt in 
the flames if you did not make haste to escape, 
you would not believe him. You would say, " He 
does not believe it himself, or he would not be so 
unfeeling as to speak of it in such a manner." 

If a Minister delivers his message, then no 
scorn, no reproach that may be cast upon him, 
can take away his rest — he has done his duty. 
When the King sent out his servants to invite men 
to His feast, they excused themselves on various 
pretences : — but the servant might say, " No 
matter ! — I have declared the message — I may 
rest in having done my part, though no success 
seems to attend my pressing invitations." 

I would lodge, therefore, my appeal in your 
consciences — I take you to record — I appeal to 
conscience : for there is a conscience in man ; 
and, in serious moments, it will speak out. It 
wrung from Joseph's brethren that confession, 
We are verily guilty concerning our brother ! It 
forced Balaam himself to cry out Let me die the 
death of the righteous I and let my last end be like 
his! It tormented the traitor Judas into that self- 
t H h 



466 



REMAINS. 



accusation, I have sinned, in that I have betrayed 
the innocent blood! 

When a young person has been talked to by 
his parents— when they have represented to him 
the misery and ruin of a wicked course, and of 
bad habits— he might affect to brave it out at the 
time; but he has gone afterward weeping through 
the streets — because conscience would speak ! 

But, when the Spirit of God softens a man's 
heart — when he is made to feel ivhat an evil and 
bitter thing it is to sin against God — then a faithful 
Minister's appeal to that man is like that of St. 
Paul to the Thessalonians : Ye are witnesses, and 
God also, how holily, and justly, and unblameably 
tve behaved ourselves among you that believe. As 
you knoiv how we exhorted, and comforted, and 
charged every one of you (as a father doth his child- 
ren ) that ye would walk worthy of God, who hath 
called you unto his kingdom and glory. For this 
cause also thank we God without ceasing, because, 
when ye received the word of God which ye heard 
of us, ye received it not as the word of men, but, 
( as it is in truth ) the word of God, ivhich effectu 
ally worketh also in you that believe: 1 Thess. ii. 
10—13. 

It is most affecting to see to what miserable 
shifts men will have recourse, in order to evade 
the truth. 

" It is irrational," says one, " to insist so 
much on certain peculiarities of doctrine !" — 



APPENDIX. 



467 



But whose reason shall be the judge? — For the 
preaching of the cross is to them that perish foolish- 
ness: but, It is written, I will destroy the wisdom 
of the ivise, and ivill bring to nothing the under- 
standing of the prudent. 

" It is unnecessary," says another — But has 
God commanded — and do we pronounce his com- 
mands unnecessary ? 

" It is disreputable" — Did Christ regard re- 
putation ? — Nay, he made himself of no reputation. 

" It is a narrow way" — Ah ! there, indeed, 
you pronounce truly! The way to heaven is a 
narrow way ! But what says the Judge ? — Wide 
is the gate, and broad is the way that leadeth to 
destruction, and many there be which go in thereat ; 
because strait is the gate, and narrow is the way 
which leadeth unto life, and feiv there be that find it. 

Oh how distressing is it, to observe many, to 
whom we cannot but fear, the Gospel which they 
hear preached from Sunday to Sunday, is but 
the savour of death ! If God has made a difference 
in any of us, let us not forget to whom we are 
indebted. 

Brethren! you are my witnesses. I take you 
to record, that you have had the whole counsel 
of God declared unto you — that all curious and 
metaphysical enquiries, all critical and conjec- 
tural points, have been carefully avoided for your 
sake. I have attempted to clear my ministry of 
all disputable subjects, in order to set before you 

Hh2 



468 



REMAINS. 



the plain fact of the death and resurrection of 
Jesus Christ, and of Salvation through him. 

But, consider! you also must give an account! 
I must give an account, whether I plainly and 
simply declared the truth, as one who felt its 
importance, and was in earnest. You must give 
an account, whether you have gone away from 
this place, as if you had heard nothing to the 
purpose, and immediately dissipated your thoughts 
with some trifling subject — some mere secular 
concern: — or — whether what you heard brought 
you to your knees before God, beseeching him to 
seal and impress his truth upon your hearts. 

Oh consider the satisfaction you will find, in 
really embracing all the counsel of God. Con- 
sider how soon the time will come, in which it 
must be your only satisfaction, that you have 
embraced it! Let it be your prayer, as you go 
hence — " O God! give me grace to repent, with 
that repentance which is unto life! Make me se- 
rious ! Teach me what 1 must do to be saved! 
Help me to believe the record which thou hast 
given of thy Son. Give me faith to receive the 
atonement — to set to my seal, that there is none 
other name under heaven given among men wheieby 
we must be saved, but the name of Jesus Christ." 

Come to your Saviour, with humility as a 
sinner : come with gratitude and love. For 
ye are not come unto the mount that might be 
touched, and that burned with fire, nor unto black- 



APPENDIX. 



469 



ness, and darkness, and tempest, and the sound of 
a trumpet, and the voice of words: when, so terrible 
ivas the sight, that Moses said, I exceedingly fear 
and quake. But ye are come unto Mount Sion; 
and unto the city of the Living God — the heavenly 
Jerusalem; and to an innumerable company of 
angels; and to the general assembly and church of 
the first-born, ivhich are written in heaven; and to 
God, the Judge of all; and to the spirits of just 
men made perfect ; and to Jesus the Mediator of 
the Neiv Covenant; and to the blood of sprinkling, 
that speaketh better things than that of Abel. 
See, then, that ye refuse not him that speaketh ! — 
but — receiving a kingdom ivhich cannot be moved, 
let us hold fast grace, ivhereby we may serve God 
acceptably, with reverence and godly fear*. 

* Heb. xii. 18—28. 



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